The Lost Borough
by rellimmes
Summary: Strike, 1899. 6 girls and their borough, all but forgotten amongst the large concrete jungle of NYC and in deep trouble. One Brooklyn leader, hot on the tail of a gang with roots hidden deep within his own organization. 4 Manhattan boys, all striking with his own reasons for victory. Throw them all together and you've got yourself one grand adventure…
1. Chapter 1

**Strike, 1899. 6 girls and their borough, all but forgotten amongst the large concrete jungle of NYC and in deep trouble. One Brooklyn leader, hot on the tail of a gang with roots hidden deep within his own organization. 4 Manhattan boys, all striking with his own reasons for victory. Throw them all together and you've got yourself one grand adventure…**

_**The Lost Borough**_

_Ellis Island, 1899_

"Everything in place?" Mafia asked Cloud.

The brunette bookworm of their gang nodded. "Everything. We gonna send these things ta Manhattan 'o' watt?"

Her blonde haired gray eyed leader shook her head, gazing out the window of the old immigrant registry building they were staying in, clearly abandoned. "Not right away. Wait for the signal."

Cloud groaned. "It'll take da twins forever ta get da close enough ta da newsies. It'll be easier just ta go ahead."

"An' leave you three behind?" Mafia raised an eyebrow in question, pointing towards Daisy and her second Phantom. "I trust Witch an' Lucky. We'll wait. Den I go ova an' deliver dem."

Her companion glanced towards their row-boat, a method of transportation from borough to borough for their small group. "Fine."

_Manhattan Docks, 1899_

"Youse think we're in da clear?" Witch asked her twin Lucky.

The other redhead nodded, holding out their lantern to see in the midst of the darkness. "No one's following' us or seen us enter da docks. Put up ya light sis, Mafia's gonna be countin' on us ta help deliver da flyers."

Witch frowned, worried as all get-out. "Watt if it don't work? Da newsies are our only way 'o' savin' ourselves now dat Sprite's dead. Crypt might still be on our tail an' figure out da code we placed in da paper. He'll find us all before we see im' comin'!"

Lucky smacked her sister on the arm, disappointed in her. "It won't come ta dat. We're too far away for im' ta know we're here. All we gotta do is help Maf slip dem flyers in da LH an' wait for at least one newsie ta show up. Dey'll listen ta us, Isa know it."

"An' watt if dey don't? Crypt's dead ta dem, remember?"

Lucky frowned even deeper and stared out towards Ellis Island, anxiously awaiting mafia's return signal. "Dey will, given a little luck. Dat's watt youse got me for, ain't it?"

_Manhattan Lodging House, 1899_

"Isa tellin' youse Jack, dem two redheads in da square were pretty suspicious lookin'," Race kept repeating. "All dey did was watch us, an' dey was wearing newsie clothes. Dey ain't spies are dey?"

Jack groaned, tired of Racetrack's constant conspiracy theories. "Dey was orphans like us, probably pick pockets lookin' for a pay-day. Stop worrying, we'll be fine. Now get some sleep. Da strike ain't gonna carry itself ya know!"

Manhattan's second reluctantly crawled into bed and stared up at the one above him, thinking. "Carry da _Strike _now. Funny how things work like dat, huh Cowboy?"

His leader just nestled even further underneath his covers, also thinking but about other things. "Yeah, real funny. Youse know how Spot found out we was on strike at all? We got ova dere well before Queens an' Harlem could send word."

Race shrugged before slinking off to sleep. "Isa dunno. He's da King 'o' Brooklyn, Spot is."

_Brooklyn Docks, 1899_

Spot Conlon looked out over the docks from his perch of crates. Night was falling, and the other boroughs would be asleep by now. But before he called 'lights out' there was someone he needed to see.

"Isa came here as fast as Isa could Spot," his old friend Brandy said, looking up at him. "Watt is it?"

The King of Brooklyn swung himself down to greet his visitor. "Youse remember da former leader 'o' Brooklyn named Crypt, right?"

Brandy shuddered. "'O' course Isa do! How could Isa forget, an' how could youse for dat matta? Youse was his second aft' all! Became King by throwin' im' out if Isa recall-"

"Yeah, dat's da guy. You're absolutely _sure _he left New York for good, right?"

The other Brooklynite sighed. "Spot, youse asking' me ta remember something dat happened ova a year ago! Dat's a long time."

"Youse were in charge 'o' da escort dat left with him ta da edge 'o' da city Brandy," Spot growled. "Is he still in Jersey 'o' not?"

"Isa dunno Spot. Why youse bringing all dis up now? Crypt's dead ta everyone else, dat's da story we told 'Hattan an' da rest 'o' da boroughs when youse became King. So watt if he's back in town? He don't got no body ta support im' no more!"

Spot shook his head. "He's still got people who're afraid 'o' im', people who he'll force ta join im' if he finds out where dey are. All 'o' his old enemies are turnin' up dead all 'o' a sudden an' he tried ta have Hatter taken out yesterday."

Brandy gasped. "Hatter's one 'o' da only people besides youse dat were in his inner circle. Ya think he'll go aft' youse next?"

"He'll use da strike as cover for any an' all deaths, including mine," Spot agreed. "Dat's why Isa ain't launching Brooklyn into it. We're on high alert as 'o' now."

The other boy was silent for a moment, and then asked "Watt about da giorls?"

The King blinked and looked at him, faking confusion. "Watt giorls?"

Brandy rolled his eyes. "Spot, youse have ta remembered da giorls dat ran with Crypt when he was King. If he's back, den he'll go an' find em' before dey have a chance ta skip town. Dey might not even know he's back-"

"Dey left da day aft' he was exiled," Spot cut him off, not willing to bring up old and particularly bad memories. "Dey was gonna be newsies with da rest 'o' us, but dey disappeared da day before we started legitimate selling."

"Den find em'!" Brandy pleaded with his leader. "Spot, Isa know youse still care about em'. Youse an' Crypt both had a thing for dere leader aft' all-"

Spot snapped his head around and glared at him. "Don't bring dat up!" he ordered, before looking back out over the harbor.

"Alright, Isa gonna find em', bring em' back. Dere in trouble, an' it'd be wrong ta just stand by an' watch em' get killed." He glance back at Brandy. "But da moment dis goes south Isa blamin' youse."

_Manhattan Lodging House, 1899_

"Where's Cloud?" Lucky asked anxiously, looking at her leader.

Mafia shook her head. "Isa left err' behind in Ellis. She's not da quiet type if youse know me meaning."

Witch chuckled. "Youse coulda come with Phantom den; she's real good at sneakin' around."

But Mafia just shrugged. "She's with Daisy," she replied simply, referring to the girl's attachment to the littlest one. "Now c'mon, we've got papes ta deliver."

The gang of three quietly sneaked into Manhattan's LH, not making a single sound. Slipping into the boy's bunkroom, they placed a single flyer on each of their bunks before retreating back into the hallway.

"Da youse think dey'll figure da code out in time?" Mafia asked her twin spies. They both stifled a chuckle. "We've been watchin' dese guys all day Maf," Witch replied. "Dey gotta smart kind 'o' guy named David; if anyone'll crack it, it's him."

"Good," the short haired blonde replied. "Now let's get outta here. Dey'll be waking up soon an' Isa need at least some sleep before we meet em' tonight."

At that Witch, Lucky and Mafia slipped out of the building as quickly as they had come.

_Center Square, Manhattan, 1899_

_Next day…_

"Hey Jack!" Mush called out to the leader, who was lounging over by the Horace Greenley statue. "Youse get one 'o' dese too?" He held up a flyer identical to the one Jack was holding. On them were seemingly random adds, each for some kind of cause or product.

HELP US SAVE OUR VETERAN SOLDIERS! BUY A NEW WASH TUB, PROCEEDS GO TO _MEET__A__ND GREE__T__ FUND. _

14TH PRECINCT CENTER BINGO NIGHT, HOSTED BY WILIAM HURST OF THE _JOURNAL. _

CENTRAL PARK BIRDWATCHING CONVENTION. JULY 31ST, ENDS AT MIDNIGHT

DON'T BE THE LAST HOUSEWIFE TO OWN THE PRICELESS _LATE __NIGHT PERFUM COLLECTION! _MADE IN BROOKLYN, SOLD TO YOU!

DOESN'T EVERYONE HAVE A NICE SEWING MACHINE? NO? GET ONE AND GET INVOLVED WITH ONE OF THE BEST TRENDS IN AMERICA!

There were about a dozen others, but these 5 really stuck out to the newsboys, Racetrack especially. "Look at dese underlined words, Cowboy," he told Jack. "Dere all in random order."

"So? It was a mistake," Jack brushed it off. "Dey don't mean nothing Race. Stop with da theories already!"

Race shrugged and walked away, pretending not to be interested anymore, but he really pulled out a pencil. Sitting down on a bench, the second wrote each underlined word down.

_A machine don't make dat many mistakes, _he reasoned. _And if it does, den I'll just forget it. But if it's something more…_

HELP US-MEET AT CENTER OF CENTRAL PARK-AT MIDNIGHT-DON'T BE LATE-BROOKLYN DOESN'T GET INVOLVED.

Reading this several time, Race's mind finally clicked and he yelped in surprise. Throwing the pencil down, he leapt to his feet and whirled around to find his leader. "Jack! Jack, youse gotta come see dis!"

_Center of Central Park, Manhattan, 1899_

"Ya see Race, no one's here!" David Jacobs groaned, looking around into the oncoming darkness. "It's just a coincidence, or a prank. Let's get out of here, we'll need all of our energy for the raid tomorrow."

Race just shook his head. "Dere ain't no such things as coincidences Davey," he replied. "Not when youse a newsie, not when something like dis happens so suddenly. Tell em' Spot!"

The Brooklyn leader just shrugged. Jack, David and Racetrack had brought him along regardless of what to message had said, hoping to get a reaction out of whomever they were meeting. "He's right Mouth. Dem kind 'o' things are rare an' far between. Only come across two in me time as King-"

"Which hasn't been very long," Jack pointed out. "But if youse helped us with da strike it could prolong it by a reasonable amount-"

"Me answer's still no Cowboy," Spot snapped "Da only reason's Isa even here is 'cause dere ain't nothin' ta do on a night like dis except sleep."

"All 'o' youse stop!" Race ordered, freezing suddenly. "Did ya hear dat?" Everyone stopped to listen, and sure enough the sounds of voices lightly pierced their ears. IT was coming from the tree above them.

"They brought Brooklyn along, we can't trust them!" one voice argued.

"We'll have to now, won't we Phantom?" a second, more controlled but just as furious voice replied. "They're our only chance!"

"Shut up, you'll get us heard!"

"We've already been heard, would ya look down already for Pete's sake?"

The branches rustled, and suddenly two girls, both ages 16, appeared before them. The first one was shorter and had the palest complexion either boy had ever seen. The second one, whom they assumed to be the leader, had short blonde hair and stormy gray eyes that looked ready to kill. "Youse came," she muttered, almost to herself. "Ya figured it out den?" She looked expectantly at David.

It was Racetrack who answered. "No, Isa did," he stepped forward, and the girl turned to see him, perplexed. "Really?" she replied, eyebrows raised. "Interesting. Isa woulda nova guessed."

"Oh cut da polite act Mafia!" her second Phantom snapped. "Youse brought along Brooklyn when we asked ya not ta. How da we know ya ain't part 'o' Crypt's group den?"

Spot's jaw dropped. "So youse figured it out too," he asked. Mafia nodded, refusing to meet his gaze for whatever reason. "'O' course we did!" she snarled meanly, much to the Manhattan group's surprise. "We're da people who alerted youse ta his presence in Brooklyn actually. One 'o' me giorls saw im' soaking a kid in an alley a few days ago. Came right back ta Ellis n' started makin' flyers shortly aft. Looks like it worked."

"Wait, youse are Crypt's giorls ain't ya?" Jack asked, eyes widening in horror. Phantom nodded, still unhappy. "Yeah, we are. Turned on im' though, right before he got kicked outta New York. But Maf knew he'd be back, despite us doubtin' it. Hid us ova in Ellis Island eva since."

"An' actual lost borough," Jack finished. He was clearly impressed with the girls' ingenuity.

Race turned to glare at Spot, who suddenly looked down at da ground guiltily. "Isa thought youse said he was dead!"

"Sure couldn't say dat he was alive an' well could I?" Spot retorted. "Dat'd put everyone on edge, possibly cause da downfall 'o' several boroughs, stretchin' themselves so thin if dey knew! Trust me Race, we nova thought he'd come back!"

But Jack ignored the fact that Spot had lied. He was stuck on the girl's story. "Youse said youse was from Ellis Island," he stated. "Da borough's been outta commission for years."

Mafia grinned slyly. "Exactly. But enough about dat. Da point is, Crypt's back in town an' da first thing he's gonna do is come find us. Dere ain't anywhere we can go, an' da only people who give a dang about im' is youse guys. Dat's why we came ta see ya. We need help; allies if youse will."

"We'll help you!" David piped up. "Right Jack?"

The Manhattan leader nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Youse two needs a safe house ta hide from Crypt, we needs ta make sure dis city ain't plunged into another panic because 'o' im'. If youse get killed den it'll start everything back up dat ocured a year ago. We can't have dat happen."

"Thanks Cowboy," Phantom breathed, very much relieved. "We owe ya one."

"Ya don't owe us anything!" Race cut in abruptly. "Youse saved us from Crypt in da first place. We're repaying da favor."

Phantom smiled politely at him while Mafia rolled her eyes, seeing the transaction between the two. "Dere's one problem though," she told Jack. "Dere ain't just two 'o' us."

Jack blinked. "How many? Three, four?"

"Six."

"Watt? We got room for only three extra people, four if two 'o' youse share, but _six? _Dere ain't no way we'll be able ta fit!"

Spot coughed, getting his friend's attention. Staring at Mafia, he said "Jackie boy, we in Brooklyn got plenty 'o' room for dese giorls-"

"No!" Mafia yelped, earning a look from everyone around. Regaining her cool, she started up again more collectedly and tried not to go off the hook. "Isa mean, we got several younger giorls in our group Jack. Dey wouldn't survive a day in Brooklyn-"

"So we'll split youse up!" Spot cut in desperately. "Half 'o' youse go with Cowboy, da rest go with me."

By now Mafia was getting frustrated, on the verge of angry. "It's not an option,' she replied coldly. "We'd be beta sleepin' on da floor den with youse in Brooklyn."

"What do you have against Brooklyn?" David asked, slightly confused. Mafia turned to him solemnly. "Crypt was dere."

Spot huffed. "He ain't dere anymore! Trust me dollface, da last place he'll look if Brooklyn."

The leader turned red in the face at that but replied just as tartly. "I'm not goin' anywhere with youse Conlon," she hissed.

"Oh, so it's me now is it?"

"Well maybe Isa don't trust youse huh? What happened ta bein' Crypt's little second who did everything without question, like soakin' ya best friend ta da brink 'o' death an' half drowning innocent children?"

"Isa hated im' just as much as youse did! Isa had no choice an' Isa nova killed anybody-"

"Don't matta, youse still did it!"

"EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!" Phantom interrupted, her pale face now flushed with a light pink. "Look Maf, Isa know ya don't like it, but Spot's right. He'll nova know youse in Brooklyn. We can take da littler kids ta stay in 'Hattan an' da rest can stay back in Kings County. We can discuss final arrangements later when we're not out in da open an' vulnerable."

Mafia rolled her eyes again, crossing her arms. "Youse one ta talk Phantom. Ya like makin' a scene 'o' things."

Her second in command turned an even brighter pink but said nothing, so Jack took over. "Could we hurry things along please?' he asked in a strained voice. "It ain't safe here at night, especially now dat Crypt's on da loose again."

Nodding, Mafia turned and whistled into the darkness. "Alright youse guys, get ova here. We're movin'!" At that four more girls appeared out of thin air; a nerdish brunette with think rimmed glasses, a ultra blonde 10 year old in a light blue frock (the only girl out of all six in a dress, the rest in trousers) and the same two red heads Racetrack had seen a day ago. "Jack Kelly, meet Cloud, Daisy, Witch an' her twin Lucky. Finest giorls anywhere."

Jack nodded towards them in greeting, looking them over while David stared at Cloud from behind him. He was obviously smitten with her, and her with him as well. "Dey'll do," Jack finally announced, looking back at Mafia. "Which ones go where da youse reckon?"

The girl bit her lip, thinking. "Daisy's da youngest, she'll definitely stay in 'Hattan. I can split Witch an' Lucky up, sendin' Lucky ta Brooklyn with Phantom. Dat leaves me with Manhattan-"

"With Cloud in Brooklyn?" Witch questioned. "Youse honestly think dat'll work Maf?"

Mafia groaned, seeing that there was no way out of it. "Youse right, it'll nova work. Phantom, youse stay here with Daisy an' Cloud while Isa take da twins with Conlon. We'll see if dat works an' make adjustments if necessary I da morning."

"_In da morning_?" Spot remarked disbelievingly. "Youse gonna be with me at all times, no goin' waltzing around New York at a wit's end!"

"I'm not leavin' my team in another borough for ova 12 hours Conlon, it ain't right!" Mafia snapped. "Would youse?"

"Yeah," he replied, a bit sarcastically but true. "Isa know dat dey can take care 'o' demselves, unlike ya giorls here-"

_Crack!_

Everyone's heads snapped towards Fury and Spot as the King staggered back in horror, rubbing his jaw. Mafia stood a few feet away, hands raised to block any attack he could throw at her in revenge.

"We can take care 'o' ourselves just fine, just don't have a death wish," she replied coolly. She then turned to the twins and beckoned them forward. "Let go."

Lucky and Witch nodded in unison as they passed by Spot, each snickering at him. The Brooklynite set his jaw, glanced back at the Manhattaners as if daring them to laugh (which they weren't trying not to) before following in suit.

**Ok, is this worth pursuing? I know, it's not my normal type of writing style, but I figured I'd try something new. Anyhow, review if you like this! **

_**-rellimmes **_


	2. Chapter 2

**K, up-dating in 3..2…1… NOW! **

_Brooklyn Lodging House, 1899_

"Alright, youse three know where ta go," Spot announced when the girls had barely stepped inside the LH. "I'll leave youse ta it den." He then disappeared up into his room without another word.

Witch snorted, unimpressed, and she led her friend and sister up the stairs. "Not very polite is he?" she commented.

"Yeah, well, he was always kind 'o' rude, even when he was second," Lucky reminded her twin.

The girls slipped quietly into the once-abandoned girls room and sat down on their bunks. After a while Mafia started to pace.

"Watt's youse problem boss?" Lucky asked, concerned. "Youse nova dis nervous."

Mafia shrugged. "Haven't been back here in months. None 'o' us have. We ain't da people we used ta be Lucky, not by a long shot."

"How, may Isa inquire da youse think dat?" Witch questioned, raising a single eyebrow.

Her leader ran her hand through her short blonde hair. "Let's face it guys, we're outsiders now. None 'o' da people 'round here have seen neither hide nor tail 'o' us for some time, an' da only guy who did know we was still in New York was Sprite. Now he's dead, probably 'cause Crypt found im', an' we're stuck back in dis hellhole again. As for whom we are, we're toughened-up street rats with a price on our heads. We've changed."

Lucky nodded, agreeing fully. "She's right Witch. None 'o' us is da same anymore. Phantom's old collectivity turned into pure coldness. Cloud's not readin' 'err dime novels anymore an' instead started ta draw back into err' shell again. Even little Daisy ain't da bright morning star she was when we picked err' up; she's always carryin' da weight 'o' da world on err' shoulders.

And now look at us! We've turned into kleptomaniacs tryin' ta keeping ourselves alive with no more laughter in our bellies. Everyone in our group's now just a shell 'o' who we once were…"She let her voice trail off.

Mafia coughed and looked at her friend. "An' watt about me?"

The red head stared at Mafia blankly. "Watt about ya Maf?"

"How've Isa changed. Ya left me out 'o' da story."

Witch shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Maybe we shouldn't tell youse Mafia. We might offend youse, an' we can't have a house divided now."

The girl just waved them on. "I've been through hell Witch; it can't hurt me anymore den dis past year has can it?"

The twins looked at each other before nodding. "Fine," Lucky sighed. "But da truth may not be watt youse wanna hear-"

"Anything's beta den da hole we've dug ourselves into. Now shoot."

"Alright. Maf, youse have da most reason ta be withdrawn. Isa mean, look watt Crypt did ta youse before he was ovathrown. For Pete's sake he tried ta kill youse aft' he saw youse wasn't interested in im'! Dat's enough ta make anyone go insane, ah ta da grave with it- we thought youse was gonna die! But yet here youse are, livin' an' breathin', standing right dere as proof dat he nova broke youse. But instead 'o' movin' on with life aft' we left Brooklyn youse died. Not da external kind, da internal one. Ya just sorta went out 'o' it, ya know?

Don't get me wrong Mafia, youse da best leader eva, but youse always wake up like da days gonna be youse last. Ya cut off ya feelings, nova let dem show except when it's negative an' even den it's almost an act! Youse always protecting us an' tryin' ta keep us safe but dat's not watt we need." The girl put a reaffirming hand on her shoulder. "We needs da _real Mafia_ Powell back."

Mafia looked straight into Lucky's eyes, emerald green on storm cloud gray. "Youse really think dat?" she whispered hoarsely. "Am Isa really bein' dat closed off?"

Witch nodded. "Yeah, ya kind 'o' are," she stated bluntly. Lucky and Mafia chuckled weakly at her sense of force before returning to their conversation. "Just relax an' focus on watt's important for now," Lucky finished, smiling. "We'll be fine without youse actin' as guard dog all da time."

Her leader managed a small smile. "Alright, I'll try," she sighed. "For youse all, but no one else."

Lucky broke into a grin as she hopped back into her own bunk. "Dat's all we ask."

"We might wanna think about goin' ta sleep soon," Witch reminded them. "We're gonna need all our energy if we wanna get u early-"

"Ta leave early-" Lucky added, falling into their add-on routine.

"So Spot don't keep us here-"

"Dat way we can make da move on Crypt-"

"Let's all go ta bed!" Mafia interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Knock off da twin routine already, it' just got annoying! An' by da way, youse still got laughter, youse just don't feel it yet."

The red heads grinned, pleased with this new information being brought to late, and turned in themselves. But after Mafia was sure they were asleep she quietly slipped right back out of bed and crept down the stairs, making for the door.

"Goin' so soon are youse?" Spot's voice rang out from behind her.

Mafia whirled around, fists up defensively, to see the King of Brooklyn standing there, leaning up against the staircase railing.

"Watt da youse want?" she snapped, lowering her arms but keeping up the stand-off position.

Spot chuckled. "Youse sneakin' out," he stated observantly. "It ain't even midnight."

The girl shrugged. "Isa got some stuff Isa needs ta take care 'o' before da night's out," she said. "Ain't a crime, considerin' Isa ain't even under ya authority anymore."

"An' who says dat?"

"Me."

"Well da person named _me _is just gonna have ta wait a little while longer, huh?" Spot replied sarcastically, taking a couple steps forward. Mafia held her ground, tensing up. "Isa don't care watt ya say, I'm leavin'," she hissed, but Spot grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Crypt's out dere Mafia," he snarled. "Isa know ya know he has a thing for youse, an' youse know it ain't smart ta go out in Brooklyn at night anyways. He could nab youse at any time, an' Isa don't need dat on me conscience-"

"Like ya even got one!" Mafia snapped again, yanking her wrist out of Spot's grip. "When did youse eva start carin' about me an' my giorls anyways?"

Spot tried to say something, but Mafia was on a role. "Oh don't give me dat Conlon!" she rolled her eyes. "We all know dat youse only started ta look for us aft' Brandy said something."

The newsie blinked, a hint of surprise encoded in his blue eyes. "How'd youse even know dat?" he interrogated. Mafia shrugged. "We're not as cut off from Brooklyn as ya might think Conlon," she smirked.

"Ya mean Sprite."

"Why does it matta now? He's dead."

"It mattes because he was _my _newsie an' he was workin' both sides 'o' da river without authorization!" Spot roared, losing his temper completely. Mafia cringed at the loudness of his voice and pointed upstairs. "Would ya watch it? Dere sleepin'!"

The King decided to back off a bit. He nodded, still angry, and ran his hand through his hair. Pacing a couple steps either way, he started to say something, stopped, and started up again. "Sprite was my newsie; youse had no right ta employ im'," he finally said, pressing his lips together.

The blonde girl before him stamped her foot in frustration. "Hey, _he _came ta _us_, alright? Noticed us leavin', said dat he could find us a new home an' help keep an' eye out for Crypt. Because unlike youse, Spot, he cared about people, which is more den youse can say I'll bet!"

That stopped Spot dead in his tracks. Suddenly the King wasn't at the foot of the LH stairs arguing with the girl he'd secretly loved. He was somewhere else-

_Brooklyn LH, 1898_

Spot had heard the commotion all the way upstairs in his bunkroom. It had been loud, loud enough for such a light sleepers as Brooklyn's second to hear but not the rest of the newsboys around. Spot had always prided himself in having such a skill, but man did it sure keep him up at night!

Nestling further into his sheets, the second couldn't shake the strange feeling that something wasn't right in the house tonight. Of course, it hadn't been ever since he'd started the revolt against his own leader, (who he was going to kick out of town the next week, aided by almost the entire borough) but it never felt like this. The heaviness of death hung about the air like smog from a factory. Shuddering to himself, Spot pulled his weary body out of bed and put himself through the motions of treading down the stairs, hoping to find the cause of such unrest.

He wasn't disappointed. There, lying at the foot of the stairs and covered in blood, was Mafia. Spot felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the blonde leader of the Brooklyn newsgirls crumpled there. It wasn't right, watching as the girl bled to death. Poor Mafia and all of her instinct protectiveness had obviously gone up against Crypt before Spot and the others could, and she'd paid dearly for it. Her head was caked with blood, trails of it dripping down her face and leaving candy cane stripes.

Biting his lip, Spot crouched down and picked up the girl's unconscious body before returning to his own private quarters. "No one needs ta go through dat," he muttered to himself. "Especially not dis one."

Laying Mafia down on his bunk, Spot slipped into the boy's original bunkroom and quietly awakened Injun, their resident doctor/newsie. "Mafia's hurt real bad Injun," he whispered into the boy's ear. "C'mon in a my room; she's in dere." Injun nodded silently and followed his friend into his room.

Sitting down beside the bed, Injun immediately grabbed a wet rag and started to wipe away the blood and dirt from Mafia's face. "How'd dis happen Spot?" he asked disbelievingly. "Crypt didn't do dis- did he?"

Spot said nothing, but the look on his face told the boy everything. "But he wouldn't go dis far, he couldn't! He said it himself, he was plannin' on makin' err' his Queen in a few weeks-"

"Isa don't care about dat, he was drunk!" Spot snapped, putting an end to Injun's rambling. "Will she live?"

The 'doctor' nodded solemnly. "Yeah, she'll make it. Maf's strong like dat, she probably fought im' off before he actually knocked her lights out. Still, it's a good thing dat ya found err. She coulda died. But Spot-"his voice trailed off.

"But watt?"

Injun sighed. "Spot, she's lost a lot 'o' blood. She won't remember she was beat until she bled, an' she certainly won't remember youse savin' err life at all. For all we know, she could wake up tomorrow with a headache an' think all dat happened was err' hittin' err' head too hard da night before. Youse try ta tell err' watt actually happened an' she'll nova believe youse."

Brooklyn's second felt his heart sink. "Den we won't tell her. Look Injun, Isa need Mafia ta help us take down Crypt. She's one 'o' our best fighters, youse know how she got err' name."

"By soakin' da Irish mob's hit man her first day as one 'o' Brooklyn's," Injun remembered.

"Right. She hates Crypt about as much as we do, for all she hides it, but if we tell err' dat he almost killed her den our whole operation might be screwed. Youse don't breathe a word ta anyone about dis, got it?"

Injun nodded, finished up treating Mafia and went back into the boy's lodging room without another word. Spot meanwhile picked her back up and took her downstairs, laying her on the couch. He placed a book on her chest, to hopefully give the impression that she was reading and fell asleep. Leaning down over her he murmured in her ear before kissing her on the forehead.

"For all da things Crypt's wrong about, he got one thing right; youse deserve ta be Queen, Mafia. An' when all dis is ova youse gonna be."

_Brooklyn LH, 1899_

"Hey Conlon, youse still listenin' ta me?"

Spot snapped out of his reverie and saw the older version of Mafia, a healed and angry one at that, glaring at him. "Oh forget it!" she growled, waving him off before heading towards the door. "Youse won't believe me anyways."

The King reached out to grab her again, but the street rat was too quick this time. Grumbling, she swept out of his reach and slammed the door in his face, leaving Spot to wonder about what she was going to say before he'd chased her off.

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

Fortunately for Phantom, Cloud and Daisy the boys of Manhattan were much nicer than Spot was to their comrades in Brooklyn. They'd been real gentlemen; showed them their room, gave them a hot meal and left them in peace. Now the girls were sitting on their bunks in the empty girl's lodging room, pondering the recent turn of events.

"Are we gonna join dere strike?" Cloud asked Phantom, who was twirling a strand of silvery hair on her finger absentmindedly. "Deys been awfully kind an' Maf wouldn't abject. She said something about it before we left for da Park dis evenin'."

Phantom shrugged. "Isa dunno. Mafia makes a decent point; we're dere guests, but we still owe em' for havin' our backs. As youse leader here until further notice or until Mafia comes back 'o' says otherwise, Isa say dat we join. It's da least we can do an' it'll shield us from Crypt, even if it's for a little while."

Their littlest girl Daisy nodded enthusiastically. "Isa like dat idea!" she bobbed her head. "Dis is gonna be fun!"

Phantom and Cloud laughed, which was something that they rarely did nowadays, especially Phantom. In public the second had to be cold and calculating, but around her friends she could as Witch liked to put it 'let her hair down'. But tonight she'd been happier then she'd been in the past year-

"Did youse see dat boy, the cute one with the curly hair?" Cloud suddenly asked, blushing. Phantom and Daisy snapped their heads up to stare at their usually too-above- it-all friend.

"Youse mean David?" Phantom inquired, eyebrows raised. "Giorl, he couldn't drop a Delancy, an' dat's pretty easy ta do!"

"For da rest 'o' youse!" Daisy piped up. "Isa can't drop nobody!"

Cloud sighed dreamily while her friends cracked up. "But he's just so _smart…" _her voice drifted off. "Brawn isn't everything in this town anymore anyways!"

Phantom just chuckled. "She's got it bad Daisy," she cackled to her little friend. "She's got it BAAAD!"

"Hark who's talking?" Cloud retorted, waving her fist at her. "Youse was makin' eyes at da second Racetrack anyhow!" Phantom suddenly turned red. "Watt cans Isa say, gamblers are cute," she muttered.

Daisy just shrugged and played with her doll. "Isa ain't gonna fall in love!" she declared proudly, straightening up. "Isa gonna be just like Mafia an' stay single forever!"

"Youse sure about dat Daisy?" an amused voice rang out from inside the doorway. All heads snapped back to see Mafia leaning up against the door, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She waved to the two older girls before walking over to Daisy and ruffling up her ultra blonde hair affectionately. "Isa wouldn't exactly wanna be me kiddo," she laughed. "Isa got way too many issues with life ta be a good influence. Youse gonna do great as youseself anyways."

Phantom snickered. "Plus Daisy, Maf wasn't always a die-hard feminist! She used ta be in love too."

The tiny girl's eyes got big with amazement and wonder. "Oh boy who?" she asked eagerly. Her leader chuckled and sat down on Daisy's bunk, pulling her into her lap.

"He ain't anyone important," she dismissed it. "Not anyone I'd let ya go see anyhow."

Cloud suddenly was overcome with a fit of 'coughing'. "Ahhmen*- Ahhmen*- _Spot Conlon!- _ Ahhmen* - Ahhmen*," she wheezed. Fortunately Daisy didn't catch on, being the innocent girl she was, and never saw the death glare Mafia sent the bookworm.

"Why don't ya head off ta bed missy," she told Daisy, who hooped off her lap and snuggled into bed with her doll. "We'll be right downstairs if youse need us."

"OK Mafia!"

The three older girls got up and trooped downstairs, leaving their littlest member to drift off into dreamland. "How come ya so nice ta Daisy ova dere but so cold- shouldered ta da rest 'o' world Maf?" Cloud questioned. Mafia looked pointedly at her as they say down on the couch in the living room. "Because kids don't need ta be hardened up when dere younger," she answered. "Deys need a more carefree childhood den watt dey could get in da Refuge 'o' on da streets.' She grew quiet for a moment. "Beta den watt Isa got at least."

"Oh c'mon Maf, youse didn't turn out half bad!" Phantom interjected, punching her playfully in the arm. "Youse our leader aft' all, an' for da past year youse ain't gotten us landed in prison yet."

Mafia shook her head wearily. "Leave da jokin' ta Witch an' Lucky," she told her second. "But thanks."

Meanwhile Cloud was waiting for her say. "But we nova finished up with our chat about ya love life!" she complained, waving a brand new dime novel in her face. Mafia smirked. "Nice ta see youse readin' again Cloud!" she exclaimed. "Now Isa can tell da twins dat we're not all hardened street rats dey think we are."

"Well dey always did exaggerate da truth a bit," Phantom remembered. "Comes with sellin' papes. But we're off topic; youse had a crush on Spot did ya?"

Mafia frowned and crossed her arms. "Da dat's all it eva was," she sighed. "A crush. But dat's ova now, has been for a year. Not since youse- know- what happened-"

"Crypt attacked youse an' Spot found ya," Cloud did reminiscence. "Injun told us 'bout it, an' youse confirmed da story later dat day."

"But didn't he say dat youse wouldn't remember nothin' 'bout dat night?" Phantom asked. "Dat's why Spot said an' did watt he did. He knew youse wouldn't know in da mornin' so he couldn't get caught."

But Mafia shook her head in denial. "An' Injun wasn't a doc. He could fix up wounds an' stitch up cuts as well as any, but he got dat one part wrong" She let her voice trail off. When she finally picked it back up the tone was soft & afraid, something Mafia never was. Ever.

"Isa remember evertthing 'bout dat night ladies. Every single bit."

**How's THAT for a cliff hanger? Ya wanna read more, review or I won't post! I want at LEAST 5 from 5 different people, no less. So look down at the box and start typing-**

**;) Rellimmes**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh boy, reviews! I like that…. Just to let all of you know I put my beta application out there, so if any of you need one I'm here! Now, on with the show!**

**Brooklyn, 1899**

_Next day…_

"Heya Lucky!" Witch called out to her twin, beckoning her over to Mafia's unslept-in bed. "She's gone. Left a note too."

"Probably says she's in 'Hattan for da night," her twin yawned, stretching. "She didn't like it ova here in Brooklyn, especially since Conlon became King. Speakin' 'o' which, we gonna get down dere before he wakes up 'o' watt? He won't let us go into 'Hattan with only each other, an' Maf probably had ta weasel her way past im' if he caught err' too."

Witch frowned. "Maf don't weasel Lucky," she reminded. "She downright pushes past. All da boys round here were scared stiff 'o' err minus a few."

The red headed look-alike standing in front of her shrugged. "Yeah, dose were da days. C'mon, let's get outta here before Spot finds us."

The twins quietly slipped down the stairs and reached the door when someone caught them. But it wasn't Spot this time. "Witch, Lucky, dat youse?" Ink, Brooklyn's second, asked in disbelief.

They whirled around to face him, all grins, and laughed before pouncing on him. "Heya Ink!" Lucky exclaimed, ruffling up his hair. "How's your favorite cousin doin'?"

"Isa ain't ya cousin Lucks," Ink's muffled voice told them from underneath their weight. Witch just laughed. "Ya still like one ta us though, so why does it matter?"

The Brooklynite chuckled and pushed the girls off of him giving them each a separate hug. "It's great ta see youse both. Where's Maf an' da rest?"

"Maf was here," Lucky shrugged, hands in her pockets. "Gone now. She went ta 'Hattan late last night. Didn't like spendin' da night in da Brooklyn LH. Spot ain't her cup 'o' tea, if youse follow me."

Ink nodded, understanding. "He still in love with err den?"

"Youse tell me."

Witch groaned and rolled her eyes. "Look Ink, could youse maybe cut it a little short dis mornin'? We'd love ta chat more, but if Spot catches us sneakin' out-"

The newsboy nodded. "Sure, Isa cover for ya. But first tell me; is it true? Ya back here because Crypt's back? Dere was rumors floatin' around 'bout Hatter getting' soaked an' Sprite was actually murdered by one 'o' his pals."

They both nodded solemnly. "Yeah, it's true. Mafia says he'll use da strike as cover, an' dat's why Spot won't get into it unless absolutely necessary."

"But _youse_ is gonna join right?" Ink pressed on. "Spot don't control ya like he does us, does he?"

The twins shook their heads in unison. "Nah, we're good. Mafia's gonna help out 'Hattan no matta watt Spot says, she's dat loyal. Says we owe em' for housin' us from Crypt, an' she intends ta repay it in in full."

Ink snorted. "Typical Mafia. Smart, loyal, strong, tough an' stubborn all rolled into one. I think Isa hear spot comin' down; youse need ta get a move on."

"Thanks Ink!" Lucky grinned as she pulled Witch to the door. "Tell Shark we said hi!"

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

An hour later everyone, Brooklyn girls and Manhattan newsboys alike, was standing outside the Distribution Center. Since they were all on strike they wouldn't go in, but everyone was having a good time annoying the scabs that had come to take their place. Meanwhile Mafia and Jack were talking strike matters, making sure everything was ready for the second raid that afternoon. The girls had decided not to actually take part in it, rather choosing to stay in the crowd and alert anyone if there was trouble.

While the two leaders were talking Mafia's girls disbursed into the crowd of newsboy, getting acquainted and whatnot. Phantom could be seen talking to Racetrack Higgins and Boots, who were retelling (a largely exaggerating) a close call in the Bronx. The twins were busy chatting Mush and Kid Blink up, Cloud was seated next to David, who looked at ease despite being in the presence of a girl he didn't know, indulging in a conversation about the works of Charles Dickens. Even little Daisy had found a friend in Les, and the two were entertaining themselves by mock-fighting with Les's wooden sword and Daisy's miniature slingshot.

At one point Racetrack and Phantom came over to David and Cloud to say hello. While the two girls went off and started their own conversation by the statue Race turned to David.

"So Davey, how does it feel?" the gambler snickered. "Havin' a giorl finally pay attention ta youse for once?"

The 'Walking Mouth' turned beet red and looked away. "Cloud's pretty interesting once you get to know her," he muttered.

Race laughed and sat down on the bench next to him. "Yeah, but she's a little, ya know, _bookish_. Now Phantom ova dere-"he jerked his thumb at her. "She's a looker!"

"But she's so pale!" David whined. "You two are exact opposites!"

The Italian shot him a disappointed look. "Opposites can attract too youse know," he pointed out. "For an educated kid Davey, youse got a lot ta learn."

The boy was about to fire back when Mush and Blink approached them, having excused themselves from the twins. "Da youse see dem two?" Mush asked excitedly. "Da giorl Witch is a real piece 'o' work!"

"Witch's nothin'!" Blink objected. "Her sister Lucky- wow!"

Race rolled his eyes. "Youse can't even tell da two apart," he said. "How da youse know when youse askin' one out? Ya could be talkin' ta err' sister!"

The two boys snorted with laughter. "'O' course youse can!" Mush retorted. "Witch has curly hair an' Lucky don't." The four newsboys all looked over at the girls, who were busy talking to Snipeshooter and Boots, two younger newsies. "You're right about that," David admitted. "But tell me, what do you guys think of Mafia? No one's hit on her yet, and Jack's talking to her now."

At that the rest fell into uncomfortable silence. "Davey, dat's kinda hard ta explain," Blink finally muttered. "Mafia, well, she' different-"

"Different how?" David interrupted. "From what everyone else tells me she's intelligent, a good leader, a capable fighter and loyal. And anyone can see that she's attractive. I mean, I'm not saying she's my type, but only Jack's been decently close to her since she came over here!"

The other newsies finally decided to enlighten their new friend. "Ya see David, it ain't dat we don't like err'," Race explained. "We do. Her gang actually stayed at da LH aft' dey fled Brooklyn, a really friendly kind 'o' giorl. 'O' course, dat was before all dey disappeared for a year an' became street rats. Brooklynites are already bred tough, but Maf, well, she already grew up fewer dens good. She was on da streets by da age 'o' 7, an' if it weren't for da Brooklyn boys findin' err' when dey did she woulda died. So youse see, she's already closed off, harden up if youse know me meanin'. Combine dat, err' current situation an' Spot an' youse got one off limits street giorl."

"What's the King got to do with her?" David questioned.

"He's got everything ta do with it!" Blink piped up. "He's had his eye on err' from day one, eva since she came ta Brooklyn's LH. Crypt did too, but ya see watt happened ta im'."

Mush nodded. "Ain't dat da truth. Isa remember meetin' Mafia shortly aft' Crypt was exiled. We all threw a big party at Medda's, hosted by Spot himself. Isa was gonna ask err' ta dance, but before Isa could get da chance Spot came up. Notice me starin' an' all Isa guess. He started chattin' me up, askin' watt Isa thought 'o' err' an all. Trust me, he starts pokin' around like dat youse figure out real quick ya beta stay away. Ya make a move on any 'o' Spot's giorls an' ya toast David. Isa got da message an' scrammed."

"So you're all scared of him?" David summed it up. "Guys, Conlon's not here. He's not interested in the strike, but the girls are. They're helping out around here, and as long as Spot doesn't come over here you're free to go and talk to her!"

Racetrack shifted in his seat and muttered something about Spot's birds being everywhere, but Blink agreed with David. "He's right youse know; he ain't here ta scare us off, so why don't we take da chance?"

"Youse already got a giorl!" Mush laughed. Blink just shrugged. "Isa nova said Isa was gonna be da guy ta do it," he reasoned. "

"Let's just drop it for now," Race threw in. "Davey makes a fair point, but we ain't gonna risk it. Plus Jack's about ta round us up for da raid. C'mon, last one ta da statue's a scab!"

Letting the topic drop, the four newsies took off to prepare for the rally on the Center.

**So, this took a while, but I finally updated! Stupid volleyball games… oh well, they're so much fun! I'm starting another story the moment (I know, I know, Hatter, you shouldn't do this! Bad Hatter!) So if you think I should post this read the plotline the bottom & review!**

_**Spot's in trouble- again. His borough is being attacked, he lies within the safety of the Bronx being treated by the only person who wants nothing to do with him; the beautiful newsgirl and resident physician Gray Kennedy. Now all he has to do is recover from a beating in exactly two weeks and save a jeopardized city- and the only person who can help him is Gray… **_


	4. Chapter 4

**Yeah, reviews! I love em'! Do you know what I like more? Beta requests! If you know anyone or you yourself need a Beta I need a story, so review or PM and that just might happen! Anyways, here we go again-**

_Manhattan, 1899_

To say the least, Mafia thought the first raid went extremely well minus the imprisonment of Crutchy. As she sat on the lodging house couch in Manhattan watching the numerous scenes unfold around her she couldn't help but congratulate herself on being the one to suggest joining them. Jack had been Mafia's friend for years, and since he had been the first to take them in after they fled Brooklyn it was only fair she should repay him. But hadn't Spot been her friend before she'd run away? Didn't he save her life when she'd been left for dead by a drunken Crypt? She hadn't repaid him…

The girl quickly shook the thought from her mind and refocused on the present. It had been a crush; it was nothing serious and he would never know. He was out of the picture as far as she was concerned. Turning towards the right, Mafia's eyes quickly fell on Les and Daisy, who were busy playing marbles on the floor with Boots and Snipeshooter. Les had just rolled and Daisy was laughing at some funny joke he had just told. Mafia smiled. _This is the way kids should live, _she thought. _Happy, healthy and without as much as a care in the world. Not abandoned and forgotten on the streets. _ A lot like her…

Mafia was swept out of her reverie by Jack and David's return, which signaled a storm of newsboys all hustling towards them, each with a question of his own.

"Where's Crutchy Jack?"

"Did ya see Snider?"

"What happened?"

"Is he OK?"

Finally Phantom, who was sitting off to the side with Racetrack and Specs, got up on the table above everyone and screamed "All 'o' youse SHUT UP! Let em' talk for once!" Then, as the room went dead silent she hopped back down, grinning. Jack nodded thanks. "Thanks Phantom." The pale girl shrugged as if it didn't matter, but a pat on the back from Race changed her mind. "Yeah, youse was great!" the Italian told her. Phantom blushed and glanced at Mafia, who rolled her eyes and faced Jack. "Well Jack, how is he?"

The Manhattan leader slumped down in a chair and let out a sigh as everyone perked up to hear what he had to say. "Crutchy's gonna be stuck in da Refuge for a while everybody," he announced solemnly. "Da Delancy's beat his good leg pretty bad today, an' he don't want nobody carryin' im' outta dat place. We'll wait maybe a few weeks an' try again- but no sooner." The crowd's hearts sank and Mafia resisted the urge to groan. Crutchy had been the girl's first friend other than Jack when they'd stayed in Manhattan after fleeing Brooklyn. He was always the optimist, and without him the LH wouldn't quite be the same.

"But enough 'bout dis already!" A voice piped up, belonging to Witch. She and Lucky were over with Blink and Mush, and before had been swapping stories. "We needs a plan. Da strike ain't gonna carry on without us, an' if we're down like dis it's gonna fall apart, ya got me?" A few nodded their heads in agreement and all turned towards her to listen up. "Alright, so now dat we know Crutchy ain't gonna be 'round for a while we need ta make sure our number one priority is da strike. We did good today-"

"-but we gotta show em' we're serious-"Lucky added.

"-or else dey'll think we're just kids blowin' hot air," Witch finished. "We can raid da Center again tomorrow, if Jack allows it, an' we'll show em' dat dey don't own us!" The newsies all cheered and Jack nodded in agreement. "It's a good plan Witch, I approve. Davey?"

David shrugged but let his excitement gleam through his dark eyes. "I like it," he said. "It'll show the others we're serious, right?" The others went silent, some frowning deeply. They all remembered Conlon's dictum when Jack had gone to see him in Brooklyn. Mafia stood up. "He's right," she told the group, gaining their attention. "Conlon'll be hard ta convince, an' ya might as well do it now when word's still hot."

Everyone agreed, and immediately Jack started to make plans for the greatest raid yet, but Cloud spoke up. "Can't da girls raid it too?" she asked hopefully. "We're as much a part 'o' this as youse are ya know!"

"No!" Mafia objected, whirling around to face Cloud. "Youse know our part Cloud; play it, no questions asked."

But David, thinking himself a knight in shining armor took Cloud's side. "She's got a decent point Maf," he told her. "You could help if you want, and from what I hear you're the best fighter in Brooklyn-"

"Davey, Isa think youse need ta shut it for once," Jack cut in nervously, watching for my reaction. "Maf may be good, but she's got her reasons for wantin' ta stay outta da way on dis one. Tell em Mafia."

The leader of the street girls drew in a deep breath. This was going to be difficult. "Ya see David, something similar ta dis happened in Brooklyn a few years ago, back when Crypt was King an' he was beta den he is now. In Brooklyn newsies buy in bundles instead 'o' singular ya know, so when Hearst tried cutting down da amount 'o' papes dat were in da stacks we all refused ta sell. Not go on strike per se, but close ta it. Den Spot, who was second at da time, had dis great idea ta go in an' disrupt da presses, an' we all ran in dere an' did just dat. We called it 'Da Brooklyn March'.

Problem is, we had a snitch, an' dey was ready for us. By da time we got dere Hearst had several hired hands ready ta slaughter us. Killed at least seven newsies total, including two 'o' me giorls. Names were Juniper an' Grit. Dis strike's gonna end up just like Da March if we ain't careful, an' I ain't too keen on bringing any more 'o' me giorls into dis. Now Isa can't control dem any more den Isa control youse, but as for me Isa stayin' outta dat Center. It's too much 'o' a risk."

By this time everyone was quiet, each too stunned to say anything. "So dat's why Spot won't join us?" Boots finally asked. "Because he don't wanna see a repeat?"

"Exactly."

Rapier sighed but remained standing. "Mafia, ya right. It's a risk, but it's one we gotta take. Ya don't gotta protect us no more. It's our fight too ya know."

Her friend nodded solemnly. "Alright, youse can go. But I'm stayin' with me original post, an' Daisy ain't goin' anywhere near dat fight." Before Rapier could say anything else Phantom piped up "Done deal. She can't be dat close ta da chaos anyways. She's too little-"

"Am not!" The ash blonde little girl retorted indignantly. "I can fight too!" Mafia chuckled and picked the tiny one up in her arms, grinning gently. "Isa know ya can sweetie," she replied gently. "But if you're in dere den whose gonna help me protect da people out here? It's a big responsibility, keepin' da crowds safe. Watt if one 'o' em' gets hurt an' I'm too far away ta help, huh?"

Daisy grumbled but agreed to keep out of trouble. "And Les can stay with you," David added. "Ma and Pa would never forgive me if I let him in on a riot." Les grinned at Daisy an promised his older brother to stay with her and Mafia at all times.

"Well den, looks like it's settled," Jack concluded. "Now let's get some shut eye. We're gonna need it."

_Manhattan Distribution Center, 1899_

_Middle of the raid…._

"They closed the gates!" Les screamed, racing towards where Mafia and Daisy were standing at top speed. "Pulitzer hired thugs; they're gonna kill David and Cowboy!"

Mafia felt the blood run out of her face as she swung round to face the trouble. She could see through the iron bars well enough, enough to make out Racetrack and Snitch banging on it for someone to let them out and Jack being encircled by about 10 large men with clubs. She swore under her breath, cursing herself for letting her team inside the Center with the rest of the boys, and turned back to the smaller children.

"C'mon kids, we're leavin'," she told them, taking their wrists and pulling them with her away from the building. "We've gotta get outta here."

Les and Daisy cried out in protest and struggled to break free of the slender girl's strong grip. "What are you doing, my brother's in there!" Les protested, kicking and fighting. Daisy too was furious. "Mafia, don't youse care 'bout Phantom an' da rest?' she screamed. Mafia whirled and, shot them both a dangerous look. "I'm not abandoning em' if dat's watt ya thinking!" she nearly yelled. "I'm goin' ta get help, an' ya kids are comin' with me. I can't let ya outta me sight, David an' Jack would nova forgive me!" She then let go and presumed to run towards the direction of Brooklyn, two kids tailing behind her rubbing their wrists.

When Daisy saw where they were headed she stopped and tugged at Mafia's shorts. "Why we headed ta Brooklyn?" she demanded. "Da King's dere; youse hate im', remember?"

"And David said Spot won't want to see you anymore," Les added, not fully understanding what his brother had meant. Mafia sighed, biting her lip. The boy was right; Spot might not want to listen to her after what had happened a day either. But she had to try. Brooklyn was their last hope of saving any of the newsies in Manhattan. "I know buddy," she nodded, starting the run again. "But if you wanna save Cowboy youse gonna have ta take da chance."

_Brooklyn south docks, 1899_

**(AN:) I'm extending the second raid scene to a few hours instead of 5 minutes. The Brooklyn Bridge **_**is **_**3 mi. long, after all)**

After the group reached the newsie docks Mafia led Les and Daisy behind a crate off to the side, away from any prying eyes. "Stay outta sight until Isa come an' get ya, ya hear?" she instructed them. "Don't let no one see youse, don't even talk ta anyone if dey do- even if dey was a friend," she added, looking at Daisy meaningfully. The little girl had made several friends in the short time she was a Brooklyn newsgirl and could be tempted to reach out to any of them if she noticed one. Daisy nodded solemnly and pulled Les behind the crate with her, disappearing from sight.

Satisfied that they would keep out of trouble Mafia approached the beginning of the pier, where a lanky Brooklynite was standing guard. His cap covered up his face. "Heya newsie!" Maf called out, stepping in front of him. "Isa wanna talk ta ya leader!" She toughened up her voice considerably, wavering the gentle and firm tone she'd used to speak to the youngers towards her usual brutal one she'd picked up as a kid on the streets. She'd lost it when she'd become one of Brooklyn's finest, but a year back on the brought it back, combined with her leader's voice she was practically dangerous.

The newsboy looked up at her, showing his face for the first time. "An' watt makes youse think ya entitled ta see im'?" Ink questioned cockily, but then seeing who it was. "Mafia Powell, is dat youse?"

The girl shrugged but grinned back at him nevertheless. "Long time no see Ink. How's bein' second suitin' youse? Not dull is it?"

Ink waved it off. "Getting' beta now dat youse back," he replied. "But youse can fill me in late. Why ya wanna see Spot? Youse two don't get along too well if Isa recall Witch not sayin'. Ya didn't even stay da night when youse came either."

Mafia nodded, a little guilty, but decided not to show it. "Dat ain't da point, nor is it da reason why Isa here. Cowboy an' da gang raided da Center twice in da past two days. First time only Crutchy got sent ta da Refuge, but everyone else is gonna be joinin' im' if Brooklyn don't help us right now. Da giorls are with em'."

The second's face paled when she heard Mafia's last comment, but he still shook his head. "Maf, we all wanna help youse, really we do. Spot's da only thing dat's keepin' us from doin' so, an' even den half 'o' im' wants ta take up arms as well. But youse know what he's gonna say when youse arrive-"

"Yeah, get out, Isa nova wanna see youse again," Mafia finished for him, somewhat sadly. "He says dat ta everyone who comes back aft' abandonin' im' lookin' for help, Isa know it from Sprite. But Isa need ta try, or people are gonna die. Ink, please. If nothin' else, as a friend."

The boy bit his lip, hesitant, but eventually let her through. "Isa can't guarantee anything," he told her as he escorted the visitor across the docks. "Youse remember how Spot is."

"Isa remember," Mafia replied, gray eyes staring straight ahead towards Spot, who'd already seen them coming and hopped off his own crate to meet them. "Isa used ta love im' youse know."

"What 'bout now?" Ink muttered, treading on thin ice now. His friend just shook her head. "My responsibility is my family now Ink," she said simply. "He's not in the picture anymore. An' aft' all dis is ova, aft' Crypt's finally 6 feet under, he'll nova see me again."

Ink wanted to ask her what she meant, but before he could they arrived at Spot. "Good luck," he whispered in her ear, kissing her lightly on the cheek in a brotherly sort of way before retreating back to his post. Spot stepped forwards after tht, waiting until Ink was gona before speaking.

"Youse gotta lot 'o' gut Mafia," he growled, staring her straight in the eyes. "Youse 'o' all people know watt happens ta dose dat come 'round here in youse position."

"Yeah, well Isa ain't dem people Conlon," was all Mafia said, smiling slightly and almost taunting- like. "Isa ain't here for me."

"An' yet here ya are," Spot replied, moving so that he and his visitor were only two feet apart. "Must be important, for da proud leader 'o' da street rats ta come scrambling down so low as ta ask a _newsie _for help. Watt, things getting' too rough up at da top sweetheart?" The King had meant it as an insult, as street rats were below even newsies in the higher class society, but as much as Mafia wanted to wipe that smirk off his face with her fist she didn't. That would only hurt matters.

"Youse know 'bout da strike in 'Hattan," she stated simply. "Youse know dat Isa know youse told Jack he had ta prove himself ta youse. He did just dat Spot. He raided da Center yesterday, an' again today. Dere trapped inside, no way out, like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Me giorls are in dere, all 'o' da 'Hattan boys are in dere an' dere gonna get hurt. I'm here ta convince youse ta help em' out. Dey need ya, plain an' simple."

Spot just shrugged indifferently. "Sorry. Can't help youse."

"But why not?" Mafia demanded, stamping her foot in frustration. "You're das King 'o' Brooklyn for Pete's sake- youse can do whatever youse want!"

Spot glared at her. "Ya can't make me Powell, an' youse know dat. Isa don't care watt kind 'o' case ya make; da answer's still no." Mafia groaned and rolled her eyes. "You're pretty pathetic, youse know dat right?"

"Yep."

"An' a real pain in da neck."

"Pretty much."

"Did Isa mention arrogant? Full of youseself?"

"Believe watt ya want Maf."

"Watt 'bout a scaredy-cat?" Mafia finally added, an idea forming in her head. "Ya ain't no leader Conlon; ya nothin' nut a coward."

At that comment Spot, who had started to walk away, froze. He spun around to face mafia again, all red in the face and anger coursing through his veins. His fists were clenched tightly, knuckles turning white. "Take dat back!" he demanded, voice harsh and loud. "Now!" Mafia just smirked and shrugged, picking at the dirt underneath one of her fingernails absentmindedly. She had him. "Nope, don't think I will."

The King talked towards her, cane swinging at his side. "Youse gonna do it or I'll throw youse in da water!" he yelled, pointing towards the river threateningly. The girl before him snickered. "Do it, Isa don't care," she told him. "Isa can swim just fine, plus everyone else has already heard ya."

Spot glanced towards the rest of his borough; each and every newsboy under his command had stopped whatever they had been doin', some even treading water in place, to watch the two duke it out. He turned a deep shade of scarlet, darker than his previous one, in embarrassment. Turning back to face Mafia, who was grinning victoriously, he beckoned her forward. "Fine, I'll be dere," he finally conceded, not meeting her gaze. "But after youse tell me everything ya know on Crypt an' Brooklyn."

Mafia allowed herself to let Spot have at least that particular condition. "Sure, whatever," she replied, waving it off. But Spot wasn't done yet. "Everything," he emphasized. The blonde sighed but reluctantly nodded, lying through her teeth when she agreed.

"Fine Conlon. Aft' dis day is ova I'll tell youse everything ya need ta know."

**Was that good, or was it good? Don't worry, things are going to heat up for Spot and Mafia pretty soon, but first the next chapter needs to focus on David, Racetrack, Blink, Mush and their girls. I need ideas for their own subplots! David's should definitely be mainly about his family, no changes there, but with the other three I'm clueless. Anyone can suggest anything, even if it's ridiculous; I won't judge. **

**TTFN (ta-ta for now!) **

_**Miss Mad Hatter**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hallelujah! Chapter 5! Happiness and blessings to all who reviewed!**

_Manhattan Distribution Center, 1899_

David was backed into a corner. Literally. Here he was, in the midst of a losing battle, squished in between two walls with no way out of a crowded courtyard. Could life get any worse? _I shouldn't even be here, _the middle Jacobs child thought to himself. _I became a newsie to sell papers and earn a living in Dad's place, not to get involved in a strike and pounded into a pulp! _

He had been so stupid! Letting Jack drag him into this riot was the worst idea he'd ever made. But he'd done it anyways. Was it to make something of himself, prove that he wasn't nothing? Was he in this for his family, to make sure they'd always have a life? Or was it for himself? David didn't know, but he knew one thing; his older sister Sarah would've known better. David had always looked up to Sarah- she was always quiet and prudent, giving her a sort of dimwitted façade, but once one really got to know her she was quite witty and kind. He'd admired her for that, and apparently so had Jack.

That was another thing; if the ever got out of this mess in one piece David would have to speak to the leader of Manhattan about his attraction to his sister. That, of course, was based on the fact that they survived. He pressed himself against the red brick wall again and-

"Hey David, could ya let a giorl have a little room please?"

David spun around to see Cloud crunched up in the corner behind him, glaring. He felt blood rush to his face and inched to the side to let her breath. He hadn't realized she was there. "Sorry," he muttered, dodging a rock being thrown into the crowd by a scab. "Didn't see you."

Cloud chuckled mirthlessly. "Youse fine, it was kinda funny! But anyways, any idea on how we gonna get outta here?"

The boy looked at her, confused. "Why am I coming up with this?"

"Because ya da brains behind all dis? Without youse dere ain't no strike, seeing dat Jack ain't got da words ta string together."

"But he's the leader!"

"An' he's usin' YOUR words!" she replied exasperatedly. "So, do youse know how ta get outta here?"

David blanked and shook his head once more. "Nope, I'm done. You?"

Cloud did the same thing. "Sorry," she apologized. "But Isa do know one thing that'll come outta dis." "And what's that?" "We'll die knowing it was for a good cause." David frowned as he punched a scab trying to escape in the face. "That's very comforting Cloud," he sighed drastically. "But Maf's gonna be back soon!" she recognized. "She's gonna come through for us, Isa know she will." David sighed again. "Keeping hoping," he told her. "We need all of it we can get!"

The girl rolled her eyes but nodded. "Ya need prayer too?"

"That would be good as well."

She clasped her hands together and whispered a brief dictum to Mother Mary before reopening he eyes. "There, done."

David felt the tension lift off his shoulders and he whistled in relief, even though the battle was far from over. "Hey, uh, Cloud- if we ever get out of here," he stammered. "Would, umm, you like to, maybe, uh, have lunch? We never did get to finish that conversation that yesterday." The girl's eyes lit up as she eagerly nodded. "Dat'd be great!" she exclaimed. "But until den let's split; it looks like some 'o' da others ain't faring as well as we are."

The Jacobs boy, disappointed as he was about separating, shrugged regardless and leapt back into the fray.

_Manhattan Distribution Center, 1899_

Kid Blink ducked and weaved past one hired hand after another, sometimes kicking one down or having to fight one off himself, his thoughts scrambling inside his head. What was he doing here anyways? About this time on a regular day he would have been chomping down on lunch at Tibby's Dinner, on stuck in the middle of a strike with no money and no food. But still he kept fighting instead of joining the scabs. Why?

Maybe it was his sense of fairness and equality that drove him, the promise of an improved state fueling him. Or maybe it was Jack and all of his fancy words, challenging them to stick with what was theirs. _Yeah, that was it, _the eye patched newsie decided. Blink had been with Jack from the beginning, seen him rise to power over Manhattan and escape the Refuge in a matter of two weeks. He'd been a good leader- he still was- and Blink had a feeling that as long as Jack led the strike he'd keep with it.

_Besides, _he reasoned. _Isa can't turn scab now. I'm in too deep an' won't have a place ta stay otherwise- dey wouldn't let me back into da LH._ HE chuckled at the thought and dived under the swing that a man had taken at him as he ran past.

"UFF!"

Blink swiveled around to see where the man's throw had really landed- and it was right into red headed Lucky. The former Brooklynite crumpled over, clutching her stomach and wheezing. She clearly had the wind knocked out of her. Pulling the girl off to side behind a crate, the newsie laid her up against the wall to help her catch her breath. "Hey Lucks, youse ok?" he asked, concerned over his crush. Lucky nodded, her whole upper-torso shaking. "Isa- have- asthma-" she groaned, clutching her stomach. "Forgot- before- I went- in." She managed a small smile, breathing deeply. "Pretty stupid- huh?"

The eye patched kid rolled his eye and made her sit down on the ground. "Youse scared me ta death!" he scolded. "Don't do dat, youse wouldn't even be here if Mafia hadn't agreed, an' she only did dat 'cause she didn't wanna cause a scene!"

Lucky shrugged and grinned. "So watt Blink? Isa here now an' Maf ain't here ta tell me off; Isa don't need youse too! By da way, ya know when we can get outta here at all? I'm 'bout outta energy an' everyone else's worried. Da scabs ain't so keen on relenting either.." her voice trailed off as she peered around the corner, trying to spot her twin.

"Isa dunno," Blink admitted, running his hand through his hair. "Before Isa started ta beat a scab Isa saw Race at da gate screamin' at Mafia ta help us. She was with Les an' Daisy, off on her way ta Brooklyn by now."

"Brooklyn!?" Lucky screeched, her face turning white. "Why'd she go dere, brining da youngers with err' no less? She hates da place an' hates Spot more den he now hates her!"

Kid Blink pursued his lips, confused. "Spot hates err' now? Isa thought he loved her, da way he was searchin' for ya gang aft' ya disappeared."

Lucky just shook her head. "Isa dunno. She stormed outta his LH a couple nights ago-didn't like stayin' dere aft' watt happened last time Isa think. Witch was also talkin' ta his second Ink yesterday aft' we came back. He says Spot was furious with err-"she suddenly grew frightened. "Oh golly youse don't think he'll soak err' do ya?"

Her friend shook his head. "Nah, Maf's too smart for dat. She'll go in an' try ta strike a deal if ya ask me. But she's just as good 'o' a fighter anyhow, so she'll be fine." "She's also got too many friends still on da Brooklyn force," Lucky added, eating her own words. "Dey wouldn't let Spot do anything."

"Exactly."

The red head seemed sincerely relieved at Blink's words and relaxed, even if he hardly believed them himself. Leaning over and pecking him gently on the cheek, she turned to dive back into the battle, possibly find Witch, though he odds of that were slim, a least until the fight was over. "Maybe youse could walk me back ta Brooklyn tonight," she suggested. "Witch goes back earlier den Isa do, an' Isa really don't feel safe goin' alone at night, 'specially with Crypt on da loose."

"Dat's assuming we get outta here in one piece," Blink stammered, trying o recover from the initial shock of Lucky kissing him. The girl just laughed and patted his cheek before leaving. "We will Blink," she promised. "Maf's always got our backs- no matte watt."

At least 10 minutes after she left Kid Blink could still be found staring off into the distance, feeling like the happiest kid alive.

_Manhattan Distribution Center, 1899_

Racetrack Higgins felt himself being torn down off the locked gates of the Center by Boots, whom had been up there with him pleading for help. "Dey ain't gonna save us Race," he yelled over the noise. "Da bulls are all bought by Pulitzer, youse knows dat!" Being the conspiracy theorist he was Racetrack had to agree, but something still bugged him. "But Mafia ran away when she saw us too," he told his friend. "She had Les an' Daisy with her. Boots, dey took off towards Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn ya said?" Boots repeated. "Why'd she go dere? She hates da place; said so when she an' her gang stayed here a few months ago."

Race shrugged, dodging a blow from a scab and knocking him out with his elbow. Boots was busy kicking a grown man in the groin when he turned back to him. "Isa dunno watt she's thinkin'!" he called over to the African American boy. "Conlon already said he wouldn't help us unless we proved ourselves!"

"Well we're doin' dat now!" was the reply Boots gave, and indeed it was true. The newsies were giving the fight everything they had, but unless they got help soon they were screwed. Suddenly a cry rose up from at least 6 feet away from him "Race, look out!" The gambler ducked just in time to feel a tall burly scab topple over his back, a force that would've hit him dead on if he hadn't been warned. Race looked over to see who'd saved his hide; it was Phantom, struggling to make her way towards him with a stolen crowbar in hand. Reaching out, Race grabbed hold of the girl and pulled her through, cutting off a scab in the process.

Standing next to him, Phantom sneaked up behind a boy with a dull but effective switchblade near Snitch and knocked him out in a swift move. "Nice one!" Race applauded, soaking another one. "Thanks for da heads up by da way."

"Anytime!" the pale girl replied, grinning devilishly as she fought. She moved around like a dancer, smooth and liquid-like, lithe as a cat. "Did youse see Maf anywhere? Isa was goin' ta get outta here when da riot started but as youse can see Isa didn't get out in time!" she chuckled, but behind that stood a façade of worry.

Race nodded solemnly. "Yeah, me an' Boots saw err' an' da kids headed towards Brooklyn." Phantom groaned, punching one of the hired hands. Her Italian friend couldn't tell if she did it in the heat of the moment or she was upset. "She went ta recruit Spot?" she confirmed. "Oh Maf, watt da ya think youse doin'? Ya gonna get killed!"

"But she still has friends in Spot's house, don't he?' Race asked, beginning to get agitated as the fight drew on. "Isa mean, Ink would have her back right?"

"Ink might, but he can't openly defend err'," Phantom informed him. "He's got a little brother, Shark, an' he needs ta take care 'o' him too. She'll probably be ok though; Conlon don't scare her as much as he does everyone else. She's known im' for years for Pete's sake!" Race laughed. "Yeah, I'd guess deys know every trick in each other's books den!"

"Be 'bout right!" was the response. They yelled warning and shouted encouragement as they fought towards each other like they'd been together their entire lives, much like two close friends. After Phantom got tired Race eventually noticed and pulled her out of the fighting a brief moment.

"Youse ok Phantom?" The Italian asked, concerned for his new friend's well-being. The pale girl nodded and looked towards the ring of fighters encircling Jack Kelly, about to suggest helping him out, when something- some_one- _caught her attention. She squinted in the afternoon sun, barely making out the face of who appeared to be the leader of Cowboy's assailants. Barely, but she could recognize those black hole-like eyes anywhere. And she screamed.

Race jerked his head around from where Phantom had been pointing to her face, which was now a dead corpse white. "It's Crypt!" she cried, bounding to her feet and backing away. "He's here, with those men! He's here ta kill us!"

"Dat can't be right!" Racetrack protested, looking at the long-haired man himself. He was maybe two years older than Jack or Phantom, with shaggy black hair from his bangs falling down into his face. "He's just someone who resembles im', dat's all! Crypt can't be here anyways; he wants ta take down Spot, not us! 'Hattan don't pose no threat-"

"Ya do if youse housin' _us!" _Phantom retorted, lips quivering in fear. "He's here ta kill us, ta kill Mafia, we're gonna die! Cowboy don't stand a chance against Crypt, not even if he don't know who he' fightin' yet!"

Racetrack groaned and took another look at the guy Phantom was talking about. His felt the blood drain out of his face as he recognized the figure. HE turned back to Phantom and quickly pulled his cap on over her head. "Stay away from him, ya hear me? Go ta da edge 'o' da fight, maybe find Cloud. Stay dere until dis is ova-"

The pale girl's face flushed with anger. "Race, ya can't order me 'round youse know! I'm just as much part 'o' dis as youse are1"

Her friend sighed and pointed towards the former Brooklyn-now-gang leader, who hadn't spotted them yet. "How many people has Crypt killed?"

"Five in da past, not countin' Sprite-"

"An' who was da only person ta eva walk away from one 'o' his fights alive? An' don't say Spot, 'cause he practically arrested im', not actually fought im'."

Phantom's posture suddenly slumped. "Mafia," she uttered quietly, barely above the noise. "But she's not here Race, da giorls are _my _responsibility until she returns!"

But Racetrack was already gone, driven into the crowd to help Jack. Phantom groaned as she watched his retreating back. "Heya Race!" she called out to him. The gambler glanced back at her. "Watt?" "If we make it outta dis mess in one piece I'll let ya take me ta Sheepsted!" The boy laughed, momentarily forgetting the dangerous situation about him. He knew how much Phantom distrusted the folk around that part of town, and saying this as a whole must've been hard for her. Plus she was betting that they wouldn't get out of the yard alive, which upped the stakes, much like a gambler. He was starting to like this girl even more.

"It's a date den!"

_Manhattan Distribution Center, 1899_

Mush Myers was having a time of it. Here he was, trapped inside a courtyard fighting for his life amongst people he'd known about that much time. Part of him wanted to give up and join the scabs, but he always stopped before the words passed his lips. Why was this? Maybe it was because of his good heart, or the sense of undying loyalty to Cowboy. That could've been it, but there was something else too; hatred for Pulitzer and everything he represented.

This thought brought Mush back to his childhood, a pretty good one up until maybe 7 years ago. He'd come from a wealthy to-do and loving home with the most beautiful and kindest parents a kid could ask for, a real step away from what he was now living in. The newsie had always thought his life would stay that way, but apparently fate had other ideas. Or Pulitzer, which was much worse.

Mush's family had owned a private company, a law firm that was quickly gaining fame and rapid power in New York City. One of his father's clients, a working class man who'd been working for Old Joe for 20 years had suddenly been fired for no reason, and he was eager to shed light on every little dirty secret the man had to offer, not to mention sue him for everything he had. Mr. Myers had put together a very strong case against Pulitzer and called a press conference with the _Sun _to tell the world about Pulitzer's plots and lies, but before he could share anything he and Mush's mother were killed in a 'random street mugging' as the bulls had put it. Mush, who was 9 at the time, knew differently, but who'd believe a recently-orphaned kid with a grudge? Mush was placed in the orphanage while his rightfully-inherited money miraculously disappeared from the vault (Pulitzer's doing most likely) and left to fend for himself. He later learned after he became a newsboy that the man's case had fallen apart shortly after when he hired another lawyer, one who just happened to have ties with Old Joe himself.

The poor boy had lost everything thanks to Pulitzer, and now he was taking his revenge. And it was going pretty well, until about an hour ago. Mush instantly regretted not telling anyone about his personal vendetta against his old boss, but now was not the time to dwell on _that. _He was up close near Jack, being restrained by two smirking scabs and forced to watch the horrible showdown between his leader and the workman with a set of brass knuckles. Mush fought against his captors and strained his eyes to get a better look at Jack's opponent- and froze.

It was Crypt, the very same one Witch and the others were running from. _Why's he in 'Hattan? _Mush wondered. _He's aft' Brooklyn an' Spot an' Mafia- _

He was suddenly jolted from his thoughts by a hand reaching out of nowhere and pulling him away, back towards the gates. Frantic, Mush fought to tear himself free, but before he could get anywhere he was turned around and facing curly red-haired Witch, her green eyes wide with horror and disbelief.

"Watt is youse doin'?' she cried, shaking her head. "Youse don't stand a chance against Crypt! Maf barely escaped im' alive, an' she's been on da streets fightin' err' whole life! Mush, youse would get killed." The boy rolled his eyes. "Jack's gonna start fightin' im' soon, he might as well have at least one person backin' im' up! Besides, youse was sneakin' around behind im' too ya know-"

"No I wasn't!" Witch interjected, lying through her teeth. "I was doin' da same thing youse were-"

"Backing Jack up?"

Witch fell silent. "Fine, Isa was gonna kill da traitor," she admitted, embarrassed. Then she looked straight at him, defiant. "But youse dunno watt he's done ta dis city! HE drove us outta Brooklyn long aft' he was gone, he killed our friend sprite, he almost murdered Mafia an' would've if he wasn't so drunk an' has kept us in hidin' for ova a year. Mush, Maf _never, eva _did dat before Crypt. She confronted her problems, but now she's too scared ta goes back ta even Brooklyn! He's beta off dead!"

"An' Isa agree completely," Mush consoled gently, placing a reaffirming hand on her shoulder. "An' youse giorls are gonna get ya chance ta avenge youseselves soon enough. But Cowboy's in trouble, an' we're gonna help im' first, got it?" Mush had never really taken charge of anything or anyone before, but Witch looked like she was ready to follow him anywhere when he said that phrase. That made him feel proud, especially since this was a girl he actually cared for in the picture. But then, just as he was at the height of his glory Witch looked up and pointed towards the rooftop. "Don't bother now Mush," she told him. "Mafia's back. An' she's got- it dat Spot Conlon?"

The newsie whirled around just in time to see the King and all of his Brooklynites standing on the roof, slingshots poised to fire and looking like he had just saved the day- which for the most part he had. But the sight of Mafia Powell, the girl who hated him most standing right beside him was completely shocking. "She actually went an' got im' herself," Witch muttered in amazement. "Isa always knew Maf was brave, but goin' back into her private hell is really something…" he voice trailed off.

None of the newsies had seen the Brooklyn boys yet, so Mush decided to lend a hand. "Hey, it's Brooklyn!"

**Ok, I do alright? I wanted to fulfill the 'four Manhattan boys' part, so here it is! Review plz!**

**-Miss Mad Hatter **


	6. Chapter 6

**Ch. 6- wow, I'm really dragging this out! Oh well, more reviews for me! FYI, I want at least more than 14 by the time this is over, if you would. On with the show then!**

_Manhattan Distribution Center, 1899_

Mafia scanned the cheering crowd below her with an observative gray eye. She was happy that Spot had agreed to join the strike, just deep down she knew her girls wouldn't receive him with open arms like the boys would. They knew what trouble he'd caused them in the past, but they also realized how much they needed him at their side. Without Brooklyn's support they would be dead by at the most next week. Speaking of Brooklyn, there Spot was now, grinning like he was the Savior of the day. She allowed him a small bit of glory, even though she knew everyone realized_ she_ was the one who'd brought him here in the first place.

"Enjoin' youseself Conlon?" she asked airily, nudging him in the shoulder. "Looks like youse saved da day."

Spot glared at her, his ice blue eyes intimidating. "Ya ain't gonna get outta dis," he replied stiffly. "We made a deal; ya gonna tell me everything aft' we're through here."

Mafia just shrugged, acting as though she wasn't thoroughly aggravated. "Oh I know. Just makin' a point. BY da way, ya might wanna get down dere an' open dem gates. Daisy an' Les just broke da lock." Spot glanced towards the gates of the Center to see the smaller newsies grinned up at him and waving happily, the chains clenched tightly in their fists. "Thanks." He took a rope hanging off the side of a wall and swung himself down into the fray, slowly but surely making his way towards the front of the crowd. Mafia smiled in spite of herself. The boy was good, no doubt there.

Climbing down herself, the street girl went to seek out jack, who she was sure would need her help in some small way. But before she could reach the Manhattaners she ran straight into another newsie, more powerfully built and with dark unruly hair. Backing up she excused "Sorry kid, didn't see ya dere-" looking up into his face grinned apologetically. And she froze. A scream rose up in her throat, but she bit it down. She couldn't look weak, not here and especially not now. She'd come too far for this.

"Heya Maf," Crypt smirked, ramming her up against a crate roughly. "Miss me?" The blonde ducked out of arm range and started to back away, breath shallow and gray eyes hard. "Get away from me ya monster!" she yelled, sending a kick into Crypt's knee. The boy simply stepped out of the way and advanced the evil glint in his eye still as malicious as ever. "Watt, don't ya 'member me Mafia?" he asked, his tone innocent like a child but dripping with anger. "Isa woulda thought youse would be happy ta see ya old boyfriend back in town!"

"Isa had nothin' ta do with youse!" Mafia retorted, knocking a pile of newspapers between them in an attempt to run. "Isa nova did an' nova will!"

The extremely-heavy papers hit Crypt's foot, causing him to cry out in pain and kick them aside furiously. "Yeah, yeah? Watt 'bout dat night, right before Conlon forced me outta my city? Youse gotta at least grime _dat!" _His smirk became a mile wide. "We had fun didn't we?" It was more of a statement than a question, and Mafia had a nasty feeling what was going to follow. "Ya jerk, ya tried ta _kill _me!" she hissed venomously. "Ya left me dere at da foot 'o' dem stairs ta die!"

Crypt laughed manically. "An' Isa would do it again in a heartbeat!" he spat, shoving a newsie from Brooklyn out of his to get at Mafia. "Youse betrayed me!"

"I hated youse!"

"An' before dat, when we first met? Isa dragged ya outta dat gutter Powell. Isa gave youse ya name, ya identity, a home, a life! Youse ain't nothin' without me!"

The girl was at the breaking point now. She knew as well as anyone he was trying to get under her skin, to destroy her from the inside out, but that didn't make it any less painful. "Watt life Crypt?" she finally retorted, managing a weak, cool and confidant smile. "Yeah sure, a name? I earned it da hard way. Home? Isa only had one, an' da house youse brought me into ain't it. As for identity?" She took a deep, shaky breath. "Isa don't have one connected ta youse. Mine is filled with honorable things; friend 'o' Manhattan, leader 'o' da street giorls, beta fighter, intelligent street rat, Brooklyn's savior. Youse don't own me."

Her opponent's face turned purple with fury. "Let me prove it." And he charged.

Mafia was already in motion before the words had left his lips. She drove herself off to the side when the deranged leader threw himself at her, narrowly missing being crushed. She tripped him and landed a firm punch at his jaw line, drawing a thick stream of blood. The former Brooklynite whirled around and lunged at her again, but before he could lay a hand on her another took her place, tackling the boy with every bit of strength they had.

It was Jack, back from his bout with some scabs (which happened to have aligned themselves with the man he was fighting right now). His cowboy hat was gone, several bruises were on his arms but he still fought with the strength of a lion. Quick as a wink the Manhattaner pinned Crypt up against the wall. "If youse so much as touch my friend again ya gonna have hell ta pay," he gritted through him teeth angrily. "Dis don't involve youse Kelly," Crypt snarled meanly.

Jack just raised his fist and knocked him out with one blow. "Anyone dat threats _my _friends involves me," he muttered towards the unconscious newsboy. Mafia breathed a sigh of relief and put a hand on her friend's arm. "Just like da Refuge, huh Cowboy?' she joked amidst the chaos. Jack shrugged. "Just like da Refuge," he agreed. "Youse still 'member dat night?"

"Da night we broke out?"

"Yeah. Dat is how we first became friends."

"Ya make it sound like a love story Sullivan," Mafia chuckled. "We nova got together, an' we had a hard time aft' dat. Barely saw each other since."

"Well youse wasn't me type Powell. Plus ya headed towards Brooklyn. Isa ain't nova livin' dere."

"It was my kinda town up until Crypt decided to go rouge," she nodded towards the body. "An' for da record, ya ain't me type either." Jack laughed. "We might wanna rejoin da party. Ya giorls is gonna be looking for ya, an' Conlon's just 'bout remember ta burst his big head. Mafia started to laugh as they ran out into the street, but stopped once she remembered her promise to Spot. "Yeah," she murmured quietly. "We might wanna."

_Tibby's Diner, Manhattan, 1899_

"- so youse read _Oliver Twist?" _Cloud asked in disbelief, taking another large bite of her buttered roll. "Dat's great! Isa been meanin' ta finish dat one, but da library wouldn't let me borrow it. 'O' course dis was before we was on da run an' all, so Isa probably has ta start all ova. How'd it end?"

David grinned. This was his first date, and already it was off to a great start. He'd never met anyone like Cloud; so happy, so educated for a newsie. And pretty. "I can't tell, it'd ruin the entire plotline!" he laughed. "But I can tell you this- it has a happy ending." Cloud rolled her eyes but chuckled. "Davey, all stories have a happy ending!" she sighed, shaking her head. "Dat's watt is so great 'bout em'!"

"Not all of them," David countered, frowning. "Some of them aren't even finished. Mark Twain never completed his last one. And what about real life stories? They don't always have a happy ending. Take yours for example; six girls on the run from a murdering former King. Doesn't really sound like good conclusion to 'The Life and Times of New York City Street Girls'.'"

Cloud shot him a glare but laughed all the same. "Nice one David, dat one was funny! But seriously though, our story ain't ova yet. It's only gonna end when Crypt's six feet under, one foot for each 'o' us. Mafia's a capable leader; she'll nova let im' get away with all da harm he's done us. Combine her mind with Spot's power an' youse got one dangerous team."

Her companion bit his lip, mulling it over. "Well Cloud, at the moment your 'capable leader' is sitting back at the LH sleeping the fear off with a butter knife under her pillow. You won't be seeing Mafia for a while or at least until she wakes up. She's in shock."

The bookworm-ish girl's eyes widened in disbelief, and she started to slowly shake her head in denial. "Watt are ya talkin' 'bout David?" she asked. "Maf's da strongest giorl Isa know-"

"Crypt was at the raid this afternoon," David blurted out. "He cornered her and tried to kill her again. Jack told me so after he knocked the guy out. Cloud, seeing him made Mafia's mind relapse. It brought back memories and pain she hid away, things she didn't want to come to light. Trust me when I say the girl's scared out of her wits."

Cloud looked at her lap, still shaking her head but this time more to comfort herself than to deny it. "All Isa know is dat Crypt almost killed her shortly before we ran im' outta Brooklyn. He was drunk an' Maf said she'd be alright, dat she wasn't hurt all dat bad an' she'd get ova it, but Isa guess she isn't as fine as she said she was." She looked up at David miserably. "Watt coulda possibly happened dat made her so desperate ta forget it even occurred?"

David could see that Cloud was very bothered by this new piece of information and decided to drop it for the time being. "Let's talk about something else," he suggested. "This should've been a happier conversation, I'm sorry I dragged you into it." The girl shrugged and brushed strand of hair out of her face, smiling weakly. "Yeah, lets," she agreed. "So, we were on _Oliver Twist?"_

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

Racetrack quietly slipped out of the empty guest bunkroom, where Mafia was now fitfully sleeping. In his hand was the silver butter knife she'd hidden in her pillow, and the second handed it over to Injun, who'd come over from Brooklyn to examine Mafia while she was slept. "She's gonna be out a while Jack," the gambler informed his leader. "Didn't even stir when Isa took da knife."

"Good," Cowboy sighed in relief. "She's needs err' rest. Crypt really scared err' stiff. IT's a miracle she ain't havin' nightmares."

"Maf stopped havin' em' aft' we fled Brooklyn," Phantom piped up from beside Injun. "She said something 'bout how every time she dreamed 'bout anything horrible all she had ta do was force da image out. She could sleep for days without wakin' if she wanted ta."

"Is dat even possible?" Spot asked from off to the side. He had been leaning up against the stair rail ever since Race and Injun had gone in. "Yeah actually," the Brooklyn newsie doctor explained. "Me granddad said da Creek Indians did it all da time. Dere's even a myth 'bout a chief who went into a dream state like dat ta meditate an' came outta it like it was nothin'."

Jack just shook his head. "Injun, how is Maf? She's been actin' all strange eva since she came back ta da world 'o' da livin'. Watt did Crypt do ta make err' so closed off?"

"Youse sayin' things dat every Brooklynite goes through Jackie boy," Spot growled, glaring at Jack suspiciously. "Youse got ya eye on err' or something?"

Now Jack Kelly could take a hint, and Spot was hinting like a girl who wanted her boyfriend to pop the question ASAP. He quickly backed off. "Spot, Isa known Maf eva since we was little. We broke outta de Refuge together, believe it or not! We kept in contact aft', an' we're still pretty close. She's a friend, but nothin' more." He shoved his hands into his pockets as a final answer. "Besides, Isa already got me eye on someone else. Davey's sister Sarah in fact. Youse can ask anyone 'round here if I'm lyin'."

Race nodded in agreement. "He ain't lyin' Spot. Sarah's all he eva talks 'bout dese days. Not to hard ta see why, she's a looker. Smart too once ya really get past her quiet-type shell."

The King saw that he wasn't being threatened and quickly apologized, but he still looked guarded. Glancing back at Injun he nodded his permission to let him speak. "Ta answer ya question Jack Mafia's been dat way since before we skipped Crypt off ta Jersey. Was dat way 'bout two week before, right aft' he almost killed her when he was drunk-"

That set Jack off. "Watt da youse mean she was almost killed?" he yelled. "Ya tellin' me dat our boy Crypt beat her until she couldn't even walk?"

"It was worse den dat," Injun answered truthfully, shuddering. "She wasn't even conscious. I bandaged her up me self, Spot was da one who found her-"

"Injun don't say another word," Spot commanded the doc, but Jack just turned on him. "Oh no, he's gonna talk all right!" Jack spat out. "An' so are youse Conlon! Ya been lyin' ta me da whole time Spot, 'bout everything dat happened since Crypt left! First ya say he's dead, den da giorls, _who we hadn't seen in months_ by da way, turn back up sayin' he's alive an' ready ta move in on New York again aft' leavin' clues behind 'cause dere too scared ta come out into da open! Mafia Powell, a personal friend an' one 'o' da strongest people anyone here knows, is curled up in my lodging house too frightened ta move because youse lied 'bout her beating even occurring an' not lettin' her cope with it! So no Spot, no more lies, no more disseat! Ya tell me everything ya know, an' ya tell it fast or so help me God Isa will strangle youse with me bare hands!"

Now Racetrack, who'd been standing back with Phantom watching this whole time took a minute of heated silence to step in and attempt to ease the situation by departing "Jackie boy, Isa hate at interrupt, but Isa promised Phantom Isa would take err' ta da races before dey closed today an' we need ta leave I we wanna see da final four."

His superior waved him odd without a word and pointed for Injun to leave as well. The three left the scene hastily before they could get called back again and disappeared, leaving a very ticked Jack Kelly and a furious King of Brooklyn in an empty hallway. Jack crossed his arms and glared at Spot coolly. "Start talkin."

The Brooklynite spread his hands apart in defeat. "Jack, Isa don't know much o' anything now. Maf was supposed ta tell me everything she knew before her relapsed, an' now dat she's asleep we're both stuck."

"So tell me watt ya now."

Spot sighed but began anyways:

"Two weeks before we overthrew Crypt he came in drunk, swinging a bottle 'o' booze an' cursin' at anyone in his way. We had learned pretty quick ta just lock all da doors we was behind an' wait until he sobered up long before dis, but dat night Maf wasn't home yet. She came in while he was still mean as a rattler an' immediately got into a fight with im'. She was always da beta fighter, but she was already exhausted an' Crypt was much larger den she was. He beat her like her was nothin' aft' she boxed him 'round a few times an' left a couple mark, or at least dat's watt we deduced aft' Isa found her lyin' in a pool 'o' her own blood an' saw Crypt with a nasty hangover with several deep bruises ta boot. He didn't remember anything before 3 pm da day before an' Injun had said Mafia wouldn't remember anything during or aft' the attack.

'Bout three weeks before we'd already begun plans ta overthrow da King, but we'd needed Mafia an' her gang ta sign off on it before we could even attempt it. We hadn't said anything ta any 'o' dem yet, but suddenly da day aft' she comes runnin' up ta me when we're alone sayin' she wants ta get rid 'o' da jerk. Isa let err' in on it an' we threw im' out. Wanted ta kill him, but we couldn't bring ourselves ta do it. Isa just sent Brandy an' a patrol out ta Jersey with im' an' told I'm dat if he eva set foot in da sent again we actually would kill im. Isa became King, spread da rumor dat he was dead an' went on with our lives.

Da only draw-back was Mafia an' her gang disappearing aft' Crypt was gone. Isa sent birds out lookin' for em' but dey nova found em'. At least Isa done think dey didn't. We nova saw em' again until a couple days ago, when dey showed up in da park. 'Round dat time some 'o' da guys from Crypt's inner circle was getting' wacked, even killed Sprite, but Isa didn't wanna say nothin', just keep it quiet an' make sure none 'o' da others were hit either. Jack, Isa gonna say it only once, but right before ya called me into da Park we was settin' up a search party for da giorls. We suspected Crypt was back an' was gonna kill em' kill he did Sprite, but dey already seen im' an' came ta youse."

Jack blinked; he looked overwhelmed. "So lemme get dis straight- ya overthrow Crypt aft' he tries ta murder Mafia an' tell everyone dat he's dead ta save ya image while da giorls, who know he'll return, flee Brooklyn. A year passes with no word from any 'o' em' until suddenly ya former King's inner circle starts ta die off one by one, an' den ya send off a search party ta find em' an' get em' ta safety before dey get killed too. But meanwhile dey somehow figures out dat he's already back an' come ova ta us for protection. Why not youse spot? Dey trusted ya enough ta make ya leader; why not see youse?"

"Because you're da only person who doesn't have a history with Crypt," a tired voice rang out from behind them. Both boys turned around to see a weary Mafia Powell standing in the doorway, looking solemnly and forlorn. "Crypt wouldn't come ta 'Hattan ta find us; he nova knew 'bout my past with youse or dat we're friends. By da way ya left out da part were Spot sent out da biords ta look for us. One 'o' em' actually did find Daisy, an' he decided ta help us hide."

"Sprite," Spot nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, Sprite," Mafia confirmed. "He was our eyes an' ears inside Brooklyn, givin' us updates on Crypt's movements an' ya own workings inside ya LH Spot. When Crypt arrived he ran straight ta us an' let us knows. A day later he was killed, an' a few hours aft' Hatter was attacked. We knew it was time ta run, an' we ran here."

Spot shook his head. "Ya were under me nose dis whole time an' Isa nova knew," he muttered. "How does dat happen?"

"Isa was a street kid long before Isa was a newsie," Mafia said. "Isa know how ta hide."

Jack snorted. "Not well enough if Crypt found ya."

Mafia glared at him. "Sprite woulda nova gave us away, even if he was tortured!" she snapped. "He was a friend, he'd nova betray us like dat!"

"He would if it was a friend who weaseled da information outta im'," Spot suggested. The blonde whirled around to face him too, gray eyes storming. "Watt is youse sayin' Conlon?' she sneered. "Dat someone we know killed Sprite, dat someone within Brooklyn's a mole?" Spot nodded, fury swirling around in his eyes like a hurricane. "Brandy said right before ya reappeared dat we should look for youse, even hinted he knew where ta start. Dat sounds pretty suspicious ta me Maf."

"Brandy's a mercenary," Jack chimed in. "He'll work for anyone if he knows he probably won't get caught. All he would have ta do is send a couple 'o' Crypt's thugs ta bash Sprite up within an inch 'o' his life an' show up just in time ta squeeze da giorls location outta im' before he died. All he would have ta do aft' dat was tell da former King himself an' watch as Brooklyn fell. Simple yet effective."

Mafia punched the wall in frustration, drawing blood from her knuckles before anyone could stop her. "An' now I'm payin' da price for it," she moaned. "Isa shoulda nova returned here, all we coulda done was skipped town an' made sure ta nova tells a soul. Why was I so stupid!"

Jack quickly stopped her hand before she could hit the panel again. "Maf, ya gonna wear a hole through dat thing," he warned gently. "We're gonna get ourselves outta dis mess, ok? All we need ta do is win dis strike, den we can focus all our energy on Crypt. But we gotta do dis first."

"Jackie boy's gotta point," Spot agreed. "I'm already fully invested in dis thing now; we can't just abandon it when it's barely begun."

Mafia sniffed but shrugged. "Might as well," she uttered, although she wasn't too happy about admitting it. "But we'll have ta make sure no one leaves anyone alone at any time, 'specially not me giorls. Crypt might be aft' me, but he's not above using dem as bait." "Won't have ta worry 'bout dat," Jack chuckled. "Race's at Phantom's side 24/7, Davey an' Cloud is always together talkin' 'bout some guy named 'Charlie Dickinson', Witch an' Lucky got dates with Mush an' Blink-"

"Whoa, wait, Isa knew 'bout Phantom an' Cloud, deys told me deys was goin' out places with Davey an' Higgins, but when did Mush ask out Witch?"

"Asked her ta a picture show shortly before youse collapsed," Spot replied knowledgably. "An' as far as Isa know Lucky an' Blink just went back ta Brooklyn. Knowin' Blink he'll probably find an' excuse ta walk into a bar or something, although he only drinks an ounce a visit. Parents were addicts, ya know?"

The girl nodded, feeling slightly better. "And Daisy?"

"Downstairs with Les, Snipeshooter an' Boots playin' marbles," jack announced happily. "Youse are all gonna be fine Maf. Don't worry 'bout it."

Mafia nodded and retreated back into the bunkroom without another word. Lying back down to sleep (it _was_ late you know) she couldn't help but realize that she was the only one in her group alone this evening. It bothered her for some reason, but she instantly shrugged it off. Any feelings for anyone had died once she'd left Brooklyn, Spot Conlon or not. She had to focus on her real problems at the moment, like staying alive and making sure Crypt never touched them again. Then what? She was getting older, old enough to stop relying on selling papers and get an actual job. Her team was growing up too; they had men in their lives now, even had dreams that could be lived out without. They didn't need a leader anymore, at least not for long, and they all knew it, though it didn't really sadden Mafia. That was fate, and it was bound to happen eventually. There was too much pain and suffering here anyways, even for a street-harden girl like herself.

Maybe once all this was over she'd finally leave New York for good….

**Was that a cliffhanger or what! Do you want Mafia to leave NYC? How should her relationship with Spot change?** **What will happen with Witch, Lucky and Phantom's dates? Review with ideas, you just might see them in the story!**

**The Miss Mad Hatter **


	7. Chapter 7

**SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED! (ducks out of way of hailing bullets). There's been stuff going on lately, so I've been busy, but I'm updating now, so here we go!**

_Brooklyn Bridge, 1899_

Kid Blink and Lucky raced down towards the center of the Bridge, laughing and tagging each other back and forth. It was a childish game, but then again, no one was watching. And it felt good to just be a kid again. When a barge's distant horn blew, shattering the otherwise calm and pristine night, Lucky jumped and bounded to the railing, trying to catch a glimpse of the ship. Blink laughed, finding it ridiculous, but followed her all the same.

"Watt's so exciting 'bout a cargo freighter?" he eye-patched teen teased. Lucky smiled and stared out over the river at it. "Witch an' me's father was a river man," she informed him. "He an' Mom used ta take us out on da water when we was little an' didn't have anything ta do. We had our own shippin' business, ya know?"

Her companion nodded in understanding. "Watt happened ta em'?"

The red-head sighed, shaking her head. "One day when we was at school Mom an' Dad took a shipment 'o' dynamite down da river ta a warehouse. It was only supposed ta be routine, but one 'o' da workmen on board was in da back with a cigarette an' accidentally dropped a match. Blew da whole boat into a million pieces. Only two people survived; one 'o' da guards assigned ta keep it safe an' da janitor boy."

"I'm sorry."

Lucky just shrugged it off, wiping a tear away. "Isa came ta terms with it years ago. So did me twin. We're good now, dat chapter's closed. Watt 'bout youse? Ya can't just be sticking with dis strike because ya think it'll work!" She paused, looking at him carefully. "Unless, 'o' course. Ya are."

Blink shook his head. "Isa got me reasons. We all do."

"Do tell."

The boy hesitated. "Isa don't think youse wanna know. It ain't all dat heroic really... It's just a thought-"Lucky smacked him upside the head. "Get goin' already! Anything dat goes through ya head is worth listenin' ta Kid Blink!" The eye patched kid shrugged and began: "It's like dis see; Isa figure dat joinin' scab with Pulitzer ain't da best idea, 'specially aft' Mafia brought in Brooklyn ta help. Someone from 'Hattan would definitely try ta kill me for dat an' partnering up with da Delancy brothers aft' all dem years 'o' soakin' em' wouldn't go ova too well with me conscience."

Lucky laughed and turned to face him completely. "Well, if it's any comfort for youse Isa think several other guys is stickin' with Jack for dat same reason too."

"Outta loyalty?"

"Outta fear."

"Oh," Blink said, his heart sinking. But before he could get too down in the dumps Lucky pecked him on the cheek again. "I kinda like cowards," she smiled, batting her eyelashes at him. Kid raised an eyebrow (the one from his good eye) in mock surprise. "Romantic cowards?"

She laughed again. "Oh definitely!"

The two both leaned in for a quick kiss, but just then another couple about three years older than they were walked past. "Get a room," one of them snipped before they themselves started to make out. "Hypocrite," Blink muttered, getting a snort of laughter out of Lucky. "C'mon Blink, let's get outta here," she told him, but Blink stayed where he was. He coughed nervously. "Uh Lucky," he stuttered. "Isa can't go into Brooklyn without Conlon's invite. Borough regulations, ya know?"

The red head looked disappointed for a moment, but quickly lightened up as she stepped back over to the Manhattan side of the Bridge. "Fine den," she chirped cheerfully. "We can stay on youse side 'o' da Bridge. Dere's dat new bar over on 51st, wanna take me? I'll buy." Blink looked at her and grinned, leaning her past the kissing couple they'd glared daggers at moments before and back to Manhattan. "Isa thought da men were supposed ta buy dem ladies drinks," he chuckled. Lucky shrugged. "Blink, Isa lived on da streets for a year. No prim an' proper _lady _can do_ dat _an' make it out in one piece!"

They both laughed as they rounded the corner and stepped inside the bar. The two slipped into the back booth and ordered, chatting all the while about whatever came up to mind. Finally Blink said "Ya know Lucky, ya ain't bad for a Brooklyn giorl." Lucky grinned, throwing her head up to down another glass. "Youse ain't seen nothin' yet!" she replied. "But if it's all da same, ya ain't too bad either. Back when Isa was one 'o' Brooklyn's finest Crypt always said dat da 'Hattan boys were soft an' witless. Ya sure are provin' im' wrong."

Blink winked at her with his good eye. "Well, I'm full 'o' surprises aren't I?" "Ya sure are," she agreed. "Speakin' 'o' which, how'd ya get youse eye patch, if ya don't mind me askin'?" Blink looked taken aback for a minute, and then realized what she was asking. Chuckling, the newsboy lifted up the patch to reveal another brilliant blue eye underneath. "It's good for business," he told her. "I'm a runaway see, an' da only thing Isa really learned from my parents was how ta run a good con."

"Deys were con artists?"

"Dey liked ta call demselves 'specialized workers'," Blink said bitterly. "Deys would even con a priest if it meant good money. We traveled all over da country performing acts an' such, always some sorta scam. Da dough we raked in was big, but once we reached New York we lost most 'o' it tryin' ta pull one ova on a banker near Wall Street. 'Round two days earlier Isa finally realized watt Isa was doin' was wrong, an' dat point was when Isa knew Isa had ta disappear. Took da remaining coins in our savings box an' ran for it. Came across Jack, Jack took me in, taught me honest work. Well, honest for da most part. Anyways, it's been 9 years since Isa ran from da trade an' Isa ain't seen me parents since. Best decision Isa eva made."

Lucky sat back in her chair, clearly impressed. "Dat took guts," she commented. "An' ya still ain't seen em' 'round?" Blink shrugged. "Don't really wanna find em'," he admitted. "Deys been in da papers from time ta time, always running some sham but nova getting' caught. Da only reason people even knows its dem is 'cause someone saw em' leavin' a bank with an overlarge bag near Detroit."

"I'm sorry."

Blink shrugged again, as if it didn't matter. "Don't be. Deys were jerks." The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute, each to their own thoughts, before Lucky finally decided to look at the clock. "It's getting' late," she said. "We might wanna think 'bout goin'." The eye patched boy nodded in agreement. "Yeah, bar's closin' anyways. I'll walk ya out." The couple got up and strolled outside into the warm dark night. When they got to the beginning of the Brooklyn Bridge Lucky stopped. "Isa think Isa can get across by me self now Blink," she told her escort. "Thanks for da drinks."

The boy nodded politely, grinning. "Anytime." Lucky laughed, kissed him on the cheek and started off. But as soon as she did Blink thought of something. "Hey Lucky!" he called after her. The red head stopped and looked back at him. "Yeah Blink?"

The newsie fidgeted in his spot a little bit. Finally he worked up the courage to ask "If Isa asked youse ta be me giorl, woulda ya?"

Lucky broke out into a broad smile. "Depends. Are ya askin'?"

"Maybe." She winked at him before taking off again, this time running. "Den yeah!"

Long after Lucky was gone Kid Blink could still be found standing right where his girl had left him.

_Manhattan, 1899_

Unfortunately for Lucky, who was expecting her to be back at the Brooklyn LH by the time she was, Witch had her own agenda for the evening. Right around the time Kid Blink and her twin sister were walking into the bar she and Mush could be found sitting down in a flicker theatre, being the only ones in the room as they'd arrived over 20 minutes early to talk.

"Isa nova seen a picture show Mush!" the flaming headed girl giggled excitedly. "It's supposed ta look like magic!"

Mush, forever one to try and please the ladies, didn't think so but decided to agree for sake of disagreement. "Yeah, it's real neat!" he lied through his teeth. "So much beta den just walkin' back ta Brooklyn, eh?" he elbowed his date humorously.

Witch rolled her green eyes but laughed regardless. "Like youse had ta twist me arm ta come see dis thing! But anyways, how'd ya get seating for dis? It ain't like da front gate ta just let two newsies into a show just like dat."

"Isa still have friends from when Isa was rich an' all," Mush admitted, muttering as if he was discomforted by it. "Dey got me tickets."

"Well dat's nothin' ta be shy about!" Witch chuckled.

"It is when no one knows ya real identity," was his reply. "Youse da only person dat Isa told minus Blink, an' his memory ain't all dat sharp. Its kinda embaressin' ta tell people dat youse used ta have it all an' lost it due ta youse own boss."

Witch's lips pursed into an '_oh' _and shook her head. "Dat is a little humiliatin'. Lot less den runnin' away from ya own home with ya only friends 'cause ya scared though-"

"Youse didn't have a choice!" Mush protested, accidentally cutting her off. "Youse all were gonna get killed if ya stayed, a lot earlier den Sprite was."

"'_Beta dead an' honorable den alive an' a coward'_ Spot always said," Witch murmured dejectedly. "He ain't too keen on people who runaway rather den face dere own problems. Dat's why almost nobody tells im' where deys came from aft' dey join da Brooklynites. Deys all afraid he might kick em' out."

Mush snorted. "He can't be dat bad!"

The girl shook her head again. "No one knows. Dere are just two people dat Isa know of dat can predict watt Spot'll do, his second Ink- who's a good friend 'o' me an' Lucky- bein' one 'o' 'em'."

"Who's da other?" Mush questioned curiously. He'd never really given Spot Conlon and his methods much thought, but now that the object of his affections had been part of his group he was curious. Witch shrugged, watching two couples entering the seating area below them and sitting down.

"Mafia Powell is da only other person Isa knows dat can read da King like a book," she finally informed Mush. "She's a real leader; could do anything she wanted ta if she put her mind ta it. She's already da best female fighter in da city, forgetting da fact dat she's got more brains den Conlon does."

Mush nodded. "Youse all seem ta admire Mafia," he pointed out. "She seems pretty capable 'o' takin' care 'o' herself."

"She's done more den dat," Witch said. "She's taken care 'o' us on top 'o' keepin' herself alive. It's hard enough ta lives a life off da grid on ya own, but with five other giorls who ain't nova spent a day on dere own- dat's hard, even for a street hardened giorl like Maf."

There were at least ten people in the theatre now, and Mush and Witch lowered their voices so they could talk without getting stared at. "Must've been hard," Mush commented sympathetically. "Bein' on da run all da time Isa mean."

"Yeah," Witch agreed. "It was tough, but we got through it. Isa here now ain't I?"

Mush laughed, casually draping his arm over Witch's shoulders. "Yeah, an' Isa pretty glad 'bout dat."

Witch laughed, gently shoving the boy's side a bit but nevertheless leaning her head on his shoulder. "You are _soo _bad!"she grinned.Mush shrugged as the lights began to dim. "Isa know." Then he thought of something. "Witch, if Isa asked youse ta do dis again sometime, would ya?" There, his heart and ego were on the line. He'd done it. Now all she had to do was say-

"Sure Mush, why not?"

The newsboy let out a content breath and settled in with his girl to watch the flicker.

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

"Hey, gimme back my deck 'o' cards!" Snipeshooter whined in the lodging house living room, snatching at them but only getting fistfuls of air. Boots meanwhile was delicately dancing just out of his reach, grinning mischievously while Daisy and Les looked on laughing hysterically. "Make me snaggletooth!" he taunted.

"C'mon Boots, deys were a gift!"

"Yeah, from Racetrack!" Daisy threw in, enjoying the fun and games being a newsie with friends provided. She'd missed having people her age to play with, first with Shark in Brooklyn and now the boys here in Manhattan. She especially liked Les.

The littlest Jacobs child caught the pack of cards when Boots threw them at him and tossed them up in the air. "Come and get them Snipeshooter!" he challenged, leaping up onto the couch and brandishing his wooden sword like an actual weapon. "Ta da death!"

Snipeshooter was never one to shy away from a fight, especially a pretend one. He too hopped up on even ground with Les and brought forth his own weapon. Boots, laughing, caught Daisy by her waist and hoisted her up on the wooden table behind them, her own weapon of choice, a wooden slingshot armed with a pocketful of pebbles, poised to fire. "An' I'll be da dragon tryin' ta kill ya both!" she shouted excitedly.

"No, youse have ta be da princess we're fightin' ova!" Snipeshooter argued, pointing at the table. He looked to Boots for support, but the African American boy put his hands up and shook his head. He wasn't going to get in the middle of this one!

Les looked at Daisy pleadingly. "Daisy, please?" he asked a bit more politely. "Youse can still be a dragon, just a shapeshiftin' one!"

Daisy, impressed by the prospect of a new kind of princess and still being able to participate in the 'battle' as well as Les's manners, rolled her eyes but assumed a more sophisticated stance. She puffed her chest up proudly and thrust her chin high in the air while still aiming her slingshot. "Youse win Les. I'm da Princess 'o' New York, an' I predict da winner 'o' dis duel me second in command!"

"It was supposed ta be _prince_," Snipeshooter muttered disappointedly, but he still came at Les with all the force he could, being on a spring-set couch and all. Les quickly dodged the blow and return it, using Boots as a stabling barrier. "And then the King ordered all the knights for battle!" he narrated, glanced quickly at Boots. "That's your cue."

Boots immediately straightened his posture like Daisy had had and deepened his voice 'seriously'. "Um- Oh yeah- Isa Lord Boots, da King 'o' New York an' Isa declare me knights ta battle for da hand 'o' da fair Princess Daisy!"

Daisy laughed harshly, really getting into her role, and swung her slingshot around towards the pair of 'knights' who were 'fighting for her heart' as they called it. "An' Isa also da dragon in disguise dat guard's da treasure 'o' Hell's Kitchen! Beware da Dragon Princess!"

"Youse can't be da dragon _an' _da princess!" Les protested, forgetting their agreement to let Daisy be both. "It ain't fair!"

"Life ain't eva fair kid," a low voice came from the doorway. The four younger newsies whirled around to see Ink and Injun leaning up against the doorframe, watching and clearly enjoying the performance playing out before them. The comment had belonged to Injun, who wore a long face as he watched the children. "If life was fair we wouldn't all be street rats an' carryin' da banner for a lousy nickel every day."

Ink nodded in agreement. "Youse can ask anyone. We're all either orphans or runaways 'round here. Isa me self took Shark outta our household aft' Ma an' Pa started ta fight." He glanced at Injun nervously. "Youse ain't gonna tell Spot dat, right?" he added. Injun shook his head. "Naw, most 'o' da Brooklynites is runaways anyhow. Just can't admit it for fear 'o' Spot hearin'."

"Why's Spot so hard on runaways' dat come ta Brooklyn anyways?" Boots asked curiously, all thoughts of their game forgotten. The others too laid down their weapons and were now eagerly hanging on the Brooklyn boys' every word. "Not everyone had a happy family before dey left for da streets. Ink, ya proof 'o' dat."

Ink shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "He thinks a man should stand up for im 'self, not run when things get tough. Watt he don't realize is dat if youse stick up for youseself al da time in a drunkard household ya can get youseself killed." He scuffed the floor with his boot.

Daisy bit her lip, thinking. "But Mafia knows youse an' Shark is runaways!" she finally said. "She don't think ya a coward at all."

Ink laughed and Injun chuckled beside him. "Yeah, well, Maf always was da person ta know everything dat went on in Brooklyn," he said humorously. "She figured out where most everyone came from when deys first came ta da LH, us included. Dat girl ain't no snitch Daisy, remember dat. She looks out for err' friends. Wouldn't rat anyone out for nothin'."

Les, Boots and Snipeshooter's eyes got real big. "She's kinda like a spy," Les concluded. "She's all tough an' secretive an' if ya on err' right side youse can trust err'."

"Isa like dat," Snipeshooter agreed.

"She's one 'o' da best Brooklyn eva raised aft' all," Boots added.

Injun laughed heartily at the silly analogy. "Isa gotta agree on dat guys. Isa ain't sure Maf would like youse comparin' err' like dat, but it's real nice 'o' ya."

"Speakin' 'o' Mafia, how is she?' Daisy asked suddenly, concerned.

Injun frowned and glanced up the stairs towards the room where the girl lay sleeping. "Isa dunno Daisy," he replied truthfully. "Ya leader's been through a lot, but dis particular problem's really gotten ta err'. She won't be herself for a bit, but Isa bet me hat she'll pull through. She did a year ago."

Neither one of the younger boys understood what had happened a year ago, and not a soul asked. They just thanked the older newsies and returned to their game. But Daisy wasn't satisfied. When Ink and Injun left she sneaked out o the room and followed them onto the lodging house steps, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Is it really da truth Injun?" Ink asked suddenly. "Da stuff youse told dem kids in dere. Is Mafia really gonna make it?"

Injun smacked his friend in and head. "'O' course she is ya bum!" he scolded. "She ain't anywhere near death- at least not like her last run-I with Crypt."

The Brooklyn second rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his skull. "No, Isa meant mentally. She's been on da streets takin' care 'o' 5 other girls who ain't nova been without a real roof ova dere heads before. She was da most experienced outta dem all, so she put dem first an' herself in danger at all times. Maf left Brooklyn strong, but she comes ta Manhattan scared an' sick."

The medicine newsboy sighed and lit up a cigar, puffing on it sadly. "Ink, Maf ain't as weak as she wants us ta believe. It's a defense standing. If we think dat she's weak den we make room for her ta surprise us. It's an old trick, pretty smart if youse think 'bout it. But youse gotta admit, she's been puttin' herself on da line for dem giorls for ova a year. She gave em' all da food she could muster an' by da looks 'o' it didn't eat for days at a time herself. She'll recuperate in time, just give err' plenty 'o' nutrients an' such. Mafia's strong; she's gonna make it through dis strike an' get back at Crypt if it kills err'."

Ink chuckled weakly. "Let's hope it don't come ta dat."

Daisy silently nodded from where she stood, even if the Brooklynites didn't see nor hear her opinion. But she froze in her place once she heard Ink's comment. "Da youse think she's gonna be able ta face Crypt again aft' dis Injun? Youse saw err' condition last time, an' dat was only for a couple minutes. Think 'bout her fain' im' in battle; she'll crumble faster den a dry cake does in July!"

Injun smacked Ink across the back of the head again. "Maf's gonna be fine!" he retorted angrily. "Youse an idiot if ya think Mafia Powell can't handle err' self. She already woke up aft' she left an' talked with Spot an' Jack. Dat means she's already healin'." But then he was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking, the frustration draining from his face. When he finally spoke his tome was quiet, almost regretful and sorry.

"Though Isa wouldn't' blame err' is aft' all dis is ova she left New York for good."

_Sheepsted Races, 1899_

To say the least, Phantom and Racetrack didn't see much of the final horse races. They were too busy sitting in the back of the standing lip locked to bet on any of the horses.

"Oh get a room already!" the voice of a man shouted up at them mockingly, probably belonging to some fat stockbroker with too much money on his hands. The two newsies broke apart and grinned, glancing down at the balding banker before deciding to ignore the comment.

"Ya know, maybe we should get a room," Race teased. His date smacked him playfully in the arm, laughing. "Youse too cute for ya own good, ya know dat?' Phantom chuckled. "It'll get youse in trouble someday-""Yeah yeah, dat an' my smart-aleck humor, Jack told me a million times," Race snickered, rolling his eyes at his friend whom wasn't even there. "But seriously though, we should think 'bout getting' outta here. Da last race start in five minutes an' Isa haven't shown youse how ta bet yet!"

Phantom sighed and let Race help her to her feet. "Fine, but Isa ain't spendin' me own money on a stupid horse," she shook her head. "Isa just gonna loose it all." Race looked shocked, placing his hand over his heart sarcastically before laughing again. "Smart giorl. Right aft' mew own heart!"

"Oh please, we all know youse bet most 'o' ya savin' tryin' ta buy a hot tip 'round here," Phantom snorted humorously. Race sadly looked down at his stomach, silently admitting defeat. "Yeah, an' me appetite pays for it," he nodded. "Ok, so if we ain't gonna vote we can at least _watch_ da race, right?"

His date laughed and allowed him to drag her over to the railing, where the horses were being lined up. "Alright Phantom, now watch number 7," Race instructed. "See how da groom's talkin' ta da jockey on number 3?" He waited until Phantom nodded yes before continuing. "Now pay close attention ta how he speaks ta im'. If he seems nervous, den it's a straight match. If he's relaxed, den he's sure he's gonna win. Dat's a bad thing."

"Why?" Phantom asked, crinkling up her nose in confusion.

"Because in horse racin' youse nova gets cocky. Ya always loose if ya do. Number 7's pretty outta touch with da horse an' his surroundings, so he knows obviously knows he's gonna win. If someone acts like dat right before a race den youse knows it's fixed, an' ya know not ta bet on dis particular race."

Phantom looked at him, amazed. She barely even heard the gun shot go off, signaling the start of the race. "Where did youse learn all dis stuff?" she asked curiously. "It don't seem like common knowledge round here, da way all dese en seem ta bet on da horses."

Racetrack blushed, looking away discretely. "Me pa used ta take me here as a kid," he told her quietly. "We used ta live in da Italian Quarter 'o' Brooklyn before him an' Ma died in a shoot-out between two newsies boroughs. It was Brooklyn an' Queens Isa thinks. He taught me everything he knew 'bout dem races, da horses too. He was one 'o' da grooms for a big shot horse breeder."

Phantom was impressed. "So dat's da real reason youse walk ova here almost every day?" she confirmed. "It ain't 'cause it's fun; it's because ya feel closer ta youse family when ya here."

The Manhattaner nodded, and then grinned. "Yeah, dat an' da fact dat its beta sellin' dis way den any street corner in New York." Phantom laughed and let her head rest on his shoulder as the last horse galloped over the finish line. "Isa glad youse told me." Race nodded, taking her hand into his. "Yeah," he whispered. "Me too."

**Ok, now who remembers which story Racetrack's past mirrors? By that I mean what particular one is his back-story the same. Shot-out to anyone and everyone who guesses correctly (or actually reads the story it's in and reviews (remember REVIEW))! As always, comment on this chapter and apologies for not getting it up sooner. I beg forgiveness! **

**(Dodges rotten fruit with perfect aim, narrowly escapes)**

**Ok ok, I'm not perfect. Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Keep on forgetting disclaimer- I don't own anyone but my OC's (though if I did I would be so happy!) and this story, including the title, but not the newsies from the movie (sob****). **

**I seem to recall that I made a challenge-find out which story Racetrack's past mirrors. I now find myself under the impression I didn't make myself clear- I meant one of my own stories, not those of others. I'm not much for the whole copy-cat thing, if you follow me. And no to the lovely reviewer who asked if the story was **_**Brooklyn March. **_**I'm not the author of that story, but you DO flatter me. I heard that story was good. So for recap, which one of my own stories is Racetrack's past the same as in this one(hint hint, you have to read and review them to find out!) **

**Ok, now that that's out of the way, let's get on with it!**

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

Mafia Powell walked into the lodging house living room and beckoned over Lucky and Witch. The girl's had both been with Mush and blink (who were now officially their boyfriends) and were extremely disappointed about this interruption.

"Hey Maf, watt's da big deal?" Lucky asked annoyed. "We're busy!"

"Yeah Mafia, watt's youse problem?" Witch threw out. Their leader rolled her steely eyes and pulled them into the hallway. "Youse gonna have plenty 'o' time ta make out with youse boys later," she growled. "But right now youse still under _my_ command an' ya do as told, got it?" Te girls nodded, still frustrated, and Mafia began. "Youse know dat crypt's in da neighborhood, yeah?"

The twins immediately clamped up and focused on Mafia directly. They now knew why she was so tense and tuned into her. "Yeah, he cornered ya durin' da attack," Lucky nodded seriously. "Watt 'bout im'?"

The former Brooklyn girl glanced around; making sure no one was eavesdropping. "Isa have reason ta believe dat he's helpin' Pulitzer out with his side 'o' da strike ta get close ta da newsies," she whispered gravely. "He'll use dis stunt as cover for takin' us out one by one, den make sure Old Joe's backin' im' up so da cops dat ain't corrupted by him can't touch im'."

Witch bit her lip. "Watt does dis have ta do with anything?" she huffed. "We all know Crypt's done it before an' gotten anyway with it; watt makes youse so keen 'bout dis time?"

The blonde ran her hand through her short, pixie cut hair. "Because he's ain't in Brooklyn anymore giorls," she explained. "He's in 'Hattan, where da security's relaxed an' practically non-existent. We're gonna get on da inside an' force Crypt out into da open before he has a chance ta slip away again-"

"By we youse mean us two," Lucky cut in.

"Yeah, youse two," Mafia agreed. "Ya remember da Delancy Brothers?"

Witch tensed up suddenly, her breath growing shallow as she realized what Mafia was asking. "Da brothers dat ran in Crypt's inner circle?"

"Da very same. He hasn't taken dem out yet 'cause dere still loyal ta im' an' his eyes an' ears in da streets. Ya got 24 hours ta weasel his whereabouts outta dem before Crypt realizes dere compromised-"

"Mafia, ya not askin' us ta-"Lucky whimpered, but her leader cut her off again before she could finish. "Oh course not!" she huffed. "Watt kind 'o' leader does dat? No, youse gonna lure dem some place private an' beat it outta dem. Isa wanna full report when ya back." She stopped, feeling the gazes of two other newsies on her. Glancing into the doorway she spotted Mush and Blink standing there, waiting for their girls. She turned back to Witch and Lucky. "Youse might wanna go say good-byes t ya boys before ya go," she said. "Isa don't think deys would want youse ta go out dere an' do watt Isa tellin' ya to, at least not without sayin' goodbye."

Like that the twins were gone, having kissed each of the newsboys on the cheek before leaving and quickly explaining what they had to do. Mafia sighed, relieved, and started to walk towards the back door. She had a friend to visit-

"Goin' somewhere Powell?" a sly voice asked her, coming from around a corner the girl had passed. Mafia whirled around to face Spot, who'd obviously been standing there some time waiting for her. "So watt if Isa am?" she snapped back, irritated. "Youse can't stop me."

Spot shrugged and pushed off the wall, taking a step toward her. "Nah, Isa ain't gonna stop youse," he denied. "Just talk, dat's all. Ya sent ya twins out ta get da Delancy Brothers. Didn't youse know dat deys been outta Crypt's league for a while yet, or is dis new knowledge?"

Mafia rolled her steely gray eyes and nodded once. "Isa known dat eva since deys left da Brooklyn Distribution Center aft' Crypt's fall," she smirked. "Isa just needed dem ta make sure dey wasn't still on his side, no matter watt. Dey really ain't important in da grand scheme 'o' things."

"Den why'd ya send Lucky an' Witch aft' em'?"

The girl sighed and glanced at Spot in mock disappointment. "Really Conlon, youse call youse self da King? Isa needed dem off me tail for a bit, just until Isa got back from Brooklyn."

Now this got Spot interested, and when Mafia turned to leave he followed her out the door and into the back alleyway, towards the next borough. "Why youse goin' ta Brooklyn den?" he asked impatiently. "Youse hate da place-""Isa know Isa hate da place!" Mafia snapped, glaring back at him. She obviously didn't need a reminder. "But if goin' back dere means avenging Sprite's death it's a price I'll gladly pay."

"So dat's watt dis is all about," Spot said, nodding in understanding. "Youse goin' aft' Brandy." Mafia didn't reply, but she didn't need to. The determined and deadly glint in her eye said it all. "Isa thought we was gonna wait for im' ta make his move for Crypt, den nab im'," the King continued, setting Mafia off. She whirled round and roughly shoved Spot back away from her, angry as a hornet.

"Look Conlon, Isa don't need youse peering ova me shoulder ever step 'o' da way here, waitin' for me ta screw up!" she snarled. "Dis is my fight an' my fight alone. It don't matter if youse were ta kid who sent im' packin' an' took ova Brooklyn, it was by my way youse even got close enough ta tough im'. It's my fault Sprite's dead, so I'm gonna make sure Brandy pays. It's retribution."

Spot looked shocked at Mafia's sudden outburst, but he didn't back down. Instead he stepped out into the dark street and motioned for Mafia to walk with him. "But youse goin' back into my territory," he stated plainly. "So youse at least need me ta escort youse into da LH."

The blonde-pixie cut girl stared at Spot in amazement. "Youse really gonna let me do dis?" she gapped. "Confront Brandy, Isa mean." Spot shrugged again, still waving his hand in her direction. "Isa was Sprite's friend too ya know," he murmured quietly. "Youse just seem ta have a more clear head about youse den me when it comes ta dis stuff."

Mafia blinked, and then let a cool smile play upon her lips. "An' dat means watt exactly?"

"Youse is gonna pin im' ta da wall an' scare da livin' daylights outta im', maybe knock im' 'round before throwin' im' outta New York City for good. If Isa get anywhere near Brandy Isa gonna kill im' on sight, an' den we have no leads."

The former Brooklyn girl sighed but followed Spot out into the dimly lit street and back into her past.

_Outside Brooklyn LH, 1899_

Spot paced on the steps of the Brooklyn lodging house impatiently, glancing up at the door ever once in a while. Mafia had been inside for a while now, and after 5 minutes of hearing tortured noises and ear-splitting screeches the King was ready to barge in and take Brandy out himself. Conlon subconsciously patted his right suspender pocket, feeling for a well-worn piece of paper he had long-since hidden. It was a ritual he'd been doing for a while now; it was almost like praying for safety. And ever since Mafia Powell had come back into this newsboy's life he'd been doing a lot of that.

Another scream shattered the night, making Spot's head snap towards the door again, but just as sudden as it began it stopped. A moment later Mafia appeared, gray eyes hard as steel and her blonde hair speckled with red. She didn't make eye contact with Spot, just brushed past him. Curiosity burned in Spot's mind as he reached out and wiped a bit of the redness from Mafia's scalp. Without hesitation he stuck the two fingers it was on in his mouth. "Watt is dis stuff, tastes metallic," he questioned.

Mafia didn't even blink. "Blood," she replied simply, not even turning to look back as Spot hastily spat the substance from his mouth. "It ain't mine."

"An' Isa don't even wanna know whose," Spot said, shuddering when he found he already knew the answer. "Did youse find out where Crypt is located?" "Sure did," came the sharp and aggravated reply. "An' Brandy don't know where he really is." Spot crinkled up his nose, confused. "How da ya know dat?' he asked. Mafia pointed down the street, towards the docks. "Because da address he gave for da building Crypt was supposed ta be in is in da middle 'o' da East River."

She sat down on a nearby sidewalk bench and ran her hand through her shortened blonde hair. "We was played Spot," she moaned. "Brandy nova actually went ta Crypt's hideout on his own. When he wanted ta talk with im' he summoned one 'o' his henchmen. Da scab would place a bag ova Brandy's head an' lead im' dere, den undercover im' an' recover im' when dey was through."

"Doesn't Brandy know where ta at least find da henchman dat takes im' ta Crypt? Dat's _something_!"

"Because Crypt doesn't use da same man twice an' always sends Brandy a new address in case he needs ta find da henchman," Mafia informed him. "He knows how ta cover his tracks, an' 'cause 'o' dat we're beat." She kicked at a rock and watched it skip across the cobblestone street. "We're done for Spot. No new leads, no trace 'o' anyone still connected ta Crypt an' we're runnin' outta options. We're dead in da water."

The King's heart sank and he sat down next to her, dying to wrap his arm around her and comfort her but knowing full well he couldn't. "Watt 'bout Witch an' Lucky's mission. Youse said it youseself, da Delancy Brothers ran with Crypt, watt if dey still do? Dat's where ya sent em' to, ta go get information outta em'."

The former Brooklynite sighed and glanced off towards Manhattan. "Dey dunno anything 'bout nothin' Crypt has his hand in. Dey has been outta commission for ova a year. Even though Crypt got himself hired onto dat hit team at ta Distribution Center a couple days ago he woulda stuck clear 'o' old acquaintances. He may be vile, but he's far from stupid."

Suddenly Mafia sat straight up and looked at Spot, an epifocal light shining in her eyes. "Dat's it!" she cried out. "Da strike! Dat's our connection!"

Spot looked at her, blinking and looking lost. "Watt's dat gotta do with anything?' he asked. Mafia rolled her eyes and stood up. "Crypt's with Pulitzer, right? He was part 'o' his hit team an' is gonna be at any rally or raid we throw at da _World _or da _Journal. _He'll show up dere, he has ta if he wants another clean shot at us-"

"An' den he'll finish da job," Spot finished for her. "Jackie boy's planned a rally at Medda Larson's Vaudeville theatre tomorrow night. Ya think Crypt will be dere?"

"Isa guarantee it."

Spot stood up as well and motioned towards Manhattan, mirroring Mafia's movements just minutes ago. "Den watt are we waitin' for? We gotta party ta protect."

"Dat sounds so weird when youse say it."

"Does not, its da truth!"

"Yeah, it kinda does, an' even if its da truth it still don't make it sound serious."

"It is serious!"

"Not when youse say it."

"Oh shut up!" Spot finally retorted, running out of excuses and throwing his hands up in the air. She had him beat; it was one of the many things he loved about her. She gave him the challenge and intelligence most of the girls he'd ran around with never could. Mafia laughed coldly in triumph and led the way back to the Manhattan LH. Spot shook his head and followed her towards the Brooklyn Bridge, but not before feeling his pocket again. It was an old habit, something he started to do and now couldn't stop…..

Spot placed his fingers over his pocket seam and froze, almost fainting dead away. He involuntarily gasped and Mafia snapped around, her guard and fists up, not to mention staring strangely at him. "Youse ok Conlon?" she asked suspiciously. "Ya see something?" "Naw, thought Isa did though," Spot quickly lied. Mafia saw right through it, but after careful examination she seemed to think it wasn't as important as she'd thought it was and continued walking. "Dese are bad times Spot," she muttered softly. "One cans nova keep ya guard up too much, especially since Crypt's back. Isa thought youse saw one 'o' his men or something…"

She let her voice trail off, leaving the words _or Crypt _hanging in midair. Spot nodded, almost to comfort himself more than her. "Oh no, it was nothin' bad or anything," Spot said in a voice that he thought sounded reassuring. _ It's a whole lot worse. _The King of Brooklyn felt his pocket just to make sure he wasn't imagining things, and when his fears were affirmed his heart tightened.

The folded paper was gone.

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

"- An' dat's how we ended up back here, "Mafia finished. She and spot had been briefing Jack about their short trip to Brooklyn, her confrontation of brandy and their startling discovery. "Cowboy we're fine, honest. Youse didn't have ta worry."

"Oh sure Isa didn't!" Jack snapped. "Two 'o' me greatest allies, one a very old, very good friend an' da other a valuable asset, go waltzing off ta Brooklyn with a homicidal maniac on da loose an' dey don't think ta notify me? Not acceptable Maf, not acceptable!"

"In all fairness Jackie boy youse just as much 'o' a flight risk as we are," Spot chimed in from his position in the corner. "Ya just now got on Crypt's bad side, which is public enemy number three countin' Warden Snyder, youse da strike leader, _an' _youse gotta giorl ya sneak out ta see every night. Ya puttin' her at risk as well as our two boroughs-"

Mafia coughed, glaring at Spot.

"-_And_ respective alliance groups," he added last minute, satisfying the street girl leader. "Da point is, we're got Pulitzer, da Refuge authorities an' Crypt on our tails. We're all in danger, some more den others, an' if youse put da Walkin' Mouth's family in da midst 'o' dis we're all sittin' ducks. Sarah Jacobs will be fine an' dere when youse come back durin' da daytime; right now youse focus on winnin' da strike an' taking care 'o' Crypt's threat, _den_ youse can go ask her ta be ya giorl. Make sense?"

"For once," Mafia snickered, catching Spot's icy glare thrown at her and returning it. Jack meanwhile looked down and nodded in defeat. "Youse right, we're all at risk," he agreed. "Isa just be glad when dis is all ova!"

Both Brooklynites breathed a sigh of relief and stress. "Us too cowboy," Spot nodded. "Us too." The three leaders stood silently for a minutes, then Jack returned to his normal business stature. "So Maf, watt happened ta Brandy? Youse soaked im' pretty bad Isa heard." "Wasn't all Isa did," the girl murmured angrily. "Da pimp tried ta throw a poker table at me aft' Isa let his throat go. Ink an' Injun caught it before it could reach me an' Bowler threw Brandy out da back. He's gone for good Jack."

"Youse think he'll try an' find Crypt now dat he's outta my LH?" Spot asked.

"Doubtful," Mafia replied, shrugging. "Brandy knows he ain't good for nothin' if he ain't on da inside 'o' da Brooklyn organization, so even if he did manage ta finds Crypt da maniac would probably kill im' ta silence any loose ends. Nope, Brandy's gonna heads for someplace where da New York newsies ain't involved, Philadelphia maybe. Dere's a few Distribution Centers up dere, he'll be fine."

Spot growled in his throat. "Isa don't want im' fine, Isa wants im' dead!"

Jack shook his head sorrowfully. "Den we'd be just as bad as Crypt Spot. We're fair people, not tyrants an' murderers."

"Amen," Mafia agreed. Just then a rap came from the doorframe. Witch and Lucky stood there, each looking at Mafia nervously. "We're back," Witch announced. "Cowboy, be we borrow Mafia? She wanted ta brief us when we returned."

"Oh sure, put it on da leader," Mafia grumbled, up got up and went over to the twins. "Jack, we through?" The Manhattaner waved her off. "Go, we was done ages ago anyways." Spot shrugged and slipped out as well, casting Mafia one last sly look before disappearing into the living room. Mafia shot him an unimpressed glanced before leading the red heads out into the empty kitchen. "Alright, watt da youse got?'

"We didn't actually go ta find da Delancy's," Lucky spilled out before her sister could shut her up. To their surprise though Mafia wasn't upset or even furious, just nodded expectantly. "Yeah, Isa figured dat," she told them. "Youse followed me ta Brooklyn instead."

"How'd ya know dat?" Witch asked in amazement. "Oh please Witch, Isa got experience on da streets for cryin' out loud!" Mafia laughed highly. "Ya giorls are good, but not dat good. Isa spent years makin' sure Isa was da best at spyin', an' youse two ain't hard ta track. But we're off topic; if youse didn't go find Oscar an' Morris watt did youse do? Isa already know ya followed me an' Isa know everything dat went on with me an' Spot, which wasn't a lot, so shoot."

Lucky took a deep breath and slipped a worn piece of paper into Mafia's hand. It looked well used, folded and unfolded and refolded many times. It had yellowed over the course of being hidden of daylight for ages, but the ink on the sheet was still bold and easy to see; it was a portrait of Mafia herself.

The artist had every detail exactly defined, the cold calculating gray eyes and the heart shaped face, the pixie cut blonde hair with golden highlights, the small scar jabbing out of the left side of her mouth, everything. Mafia gazed at the picture in amazement before finally looking back at the twins. "Where did youse two get dis?' she whispered. "It's beautiful."

"One 'o' da newsboys back in Brooklyn drew it," Lucky said, biting her lip. "Name's Sketch for… well, ya know, his artistic talent-"

"Youse remember him, da guy with da photographic memory?" Witch pitched in. "An' see da date at da bottom with his signature? Dis was drawn almost 1 week aft' we left Brooklyn last year."

Mafia nodded silently, still taking it all in. "But why? Da kid's only watt, 12 years an' only came ta da LH three months before we scrammed? None 'o' us really knew im' all dat well since we was always on assignment up until my fight with Crypt, so he can't possibly have done dis outta mourning."

Lucky's green eyes saddened and she took the paper from Mafia, flipped it back over and handed it back. "He didn't do dis for fun Mafia, Isa think we all know dat. He did dis at someone else's request. Look up in da lower right-hand corner-"Mafia did look, and she immediately turned white. Words failed her, and she sank down on the kitchen counter in shock and defeat. There, right on the sheet, the phrase _Property of Spot Conlon _was written in neat, clean lettering.

"We took dis outta his pocket when youse was still in da house back in Brooklyn," Witch's voice wavered. "He kept on patting his suspenders like something was important inside em', so when he sat down on da bench we sorta sneaked up behind it an' took it from his pocket when he wasn't paying attention, den booked it back ta Manhattan usin' da alleyways so youse two would get dere before we did. Mafia, we swear, we nova knew watt it was until we opened it up, cross our hearts-"

Witch's voice was cut off by Kid Blink and Mush's loud and joyous entrance. "Hey giorls, ya back!" Mush exclaimed sweeping Witch up into his arms and giving her a nice swift kiss on the mouth, to which his girlfriend returned, but only halfheartedly. Blink swung his arm around Lucky's shoulders affectionately and turned to politely greet Mafia when he saw the solemn look on all three of the girl's faces. "Did we interrupt something?" the eye patched boy asked. "Oh no, someone died didn't dey?" Mush groaned in embarrassment, but Witch quickly calmed both newsies down lightly plucking the portrait of mafia and handing it to her boyfriend. Blink scrambled over to get a look and the two boy's eyes widened in shock as they took the image in, then flipped it over and took in the back side of it.

Blink bit his lip just like his girl had done moments ago as Mush stated the obvious-

"Mafia Powell, looks like youse got an admirer."

**Cliff-hangers, I love them! I also love Thanksgiving, which is only TWO DAYS AWAY (Happy Turkey Day everyone!) and I love reviews even more! I'm sorry I didn't post sooner, but I've been working on this during Computer class at school (and got A LOT of nosy people who have no idea why I write Newsies FanFiction like I do (or write at all for that matter) try and delete my hard work for laughs (bullies, can't you tell?), so I hope you're happy!) and at home and while I'm on the school break and my parents are at work, so I've finally got it up. **

**Hope someone guesses correctly on my challenge, I'd appreciate that too. **

**Shout-out to the writer **_**J.E Magic**_** and the story of theirs I am Beta-ing **_**Once and For All, **_**every one of you please read it the plot is AMAZING!**

**K, now I'm done rambling (I know, I'm annoying, sue me) **

**-**_**Rellimmes/Miss Mad Hatter/Shadow/Clove/Slick/Poe/ **_**(as in Edgar Allen Poe the writer, a friend's idea not mine)**_**/Dect. Beckett **_**(Ever seen ABC's CASTLE?)**_**/MissWarriorAngel **_**(as in my FictionPress account pen name; I do have quite the collection of nicknames, a lot of them I have no idea how I got) **


	9. Chapter 9

**We have now reached over 25 reviews in this story! Yeah and thank you to all! **_**Stats: **_**29 reviews, 4 Favorites, 7 Followers and over 600 views total. These might be a little off, apologies. I love this story so much! (joyful sob)**

_Metropolitan Museum of Art, Manhattan, 1899_

"-So the whole thing was a bust?" David repeated in disbelief, following his date, Cloud, to the next exhibit in the foreign artifacts hall. "That sucks! Their trip was all for nothing!"

"Not necessarily Davey," Cloud replied in a dreamy voice as she stopped in front of an Ethiopian vase. It was one of her great ambitions, to be inside the Metropolitan Museum in Manhattan, and now that she was she had entered what Phantom liked to call her 'cloud nine' state, which had earned her the nickname her so despised. But it was better than 'Bookworm' or even 'Smarty', so Cloud bared it the best she could. "Mafia ran Sprite's killer an' Crypt's mole in Brooklyn outta town, dat's something."

The newest newsboy shook his head. "Not good enough. The guy's still out there and is going after all six of you. Aren't you worried he might try and slit your throat? You can't tell me you're not worried."

Cloud laughed softly and laid her head on David's shoulder affectionately. "Oh David, I'm scared like Isa nova been scared before. Crypt's a lunatic with a deadly agenda, dat's true, but he's only after select few of us. He won't risk goin' aft' all 'o' us; Daisy, Phantom an' I, were not all dat important ta im'. If anything da most he'll need us for is bait. Out 'o' da rest 'o' da gang Maf's probably da most important, since she's da one who really turned on im', and da twins helped with luring out most 'o' his allies so da guys from Brooklyn could soak em'. Phantom may be second, but she nova had anything ta do with Crypt."

David shook his head again. "Still doesn't settle _my _nerves!" he laughed brittle-like. Cloud chuckled as well and led her boyfriend over to another exhibit. "Look at dis one. It's a painting from- oh let's see- da 1400's in Italy. Found in da catacombs 'o' Venice it says. Wow, ain't dat something. Me own family was from Italy!"

"My father says that our ancestors were Jewish," David added. "They lived in Israel for the longest time before being driven out by the Palestinians. Made their way west, settled in Germany, then sailed over to the New World once they were being persecuted. I think they landed in Georgia, back when it was a royal colony, but later moved up the New York, I'm not sure."

"So deys were some 'o' da first people ta settle in Georgia aft' da Trustees Group," Cloud observed, remembering a story from one of her dime novels. "Dat's amazing!"

Her companion just shrugged. "I just hope I'll be remembered for something that important after this," he said. "Maybe this strike's going to actually make it." Cloud laughed and took his hand into hers. "We can only hope Davey," she sighed. "Right now dat's da only thing we got."

Just then the two heard rushing footsteps clattering their way towards them. Cloud whirled around to spot Snipeshooter racing towards them, eyes lit up like the skies on the 4th of July. "Mouth, Cloud, get ova here!" he waved at dem. "Youse gotta come with, now!" "Why?" David asked, clearly disgruntled. "Can't Jack handle another raid on his own?"

Snipeshooter just rolled his eyes and motioned for them to come. "It ain't another raid Mouth. Cowboy just announced a rally at Medda's Theatre, tonight! Spot sent all 'o' his biords out ta all da other boroughs an' surrounding areas lettin' em' know dat Brooklyn's backin' Manhattan on dis one. Dere all comin', da strike's gotten bagger. Even Jersey's makin' an appearance!"

"Davey, dat's big!" Cloud told him in awe. "Our movement's made it past da city boarders- it's huge!"

"Yeah Mouth, Cowboy needs youse back at da base ta get ready an' address da crowd before da show," Snipeshooter added. "_Now_."

David rolled his eyes but nevertheless started after the present newsboy. "Fine. But Jack owes me big time." Cloud laughed and fell in step beside David. "He's quite da talker ain't he?" she commented once Snipeshooter was out of hearing range. David nodded. "Yeah, it's a wonder he and Les get along, their polar opposites."

"Speakin' 'o' Les, he an' Daisy seem ta be pretty close," Cloud informed him. "If dey weren't kids I'd say he'd already asked her out." David laughed nervously. "Who, Les? He's only 10, I think Daisy's alright." Cloud shrugged. "Nova said she wasn't. Ya know, once dis strike is ova dere gonna see a lot more 'o' each other."

"Why do you say that?"

"I mean since Crypt's movement's gonna be put ta rest once an' for all Isa think da gang's gonna make a permanent residence up in 'Hattan, or at least da people who don't like Brooklyn will. Daisy's definitely gonna stay, she's just a kid, da twins'll probably just hop from borough ta borough da way dey are. Not sure 'bout Phantom, but she'll go wherever Mafia goes unless she leaves da city."

"What about you?"

"Oh, Isa dunno," Cloud sighed, glancing up at her boyfriend. "Isa guess I'll stay here in 'Hattan. At least dat's da plan, unless youse don't want me to-"

"No no, stay!" David interrupted, a bit hastily. "I want you to stay. I mean, uh, if that's what you really want to do. You need rest, and if you want that Manhattan's certainly the place." Before David could say anything else Cloud quickly leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "Thanks Davey, I appreciate it," she whispered. David blushed. "It's nothing-"

"Hey ya bums!" Snipeshooter scolded from up ahead. "Hurry up already! Da show _can_ an' _will _start without youse, no matta who ya are!" David grunted, annoyed, but sighed and followed the younger newsboy. Then he remembered something. "Hey Snipeshooter, is this going to be, err, a formal event or something?" he called out. Snipeshooter looked back and nodded eagerly. "Oh yeah, knew dere was something Isa forgot! It's formal as far it is goes, but Isa don't think it really mattes- well, yeah it kinda does. Youse ok with dat?"

David laughed and said "Fine be me kid, go on ahead. We'll catch up later," but as soon as the boy left he turned to see Cloud trembling. "Isa don't got anything fancy David," she admitted sadly. "None 'o' Medda's clothes fit me either." David bit his lip. "Cloud, you look pretty anyways. But if you really want something I'm sure my sister Sarah's got something. You're about her height."

"Does dis means youse askin' me ta go with youse?" Cloud gasped. David chuckled and took her by the hand to lead her towards his family's apartment. "Of course I am! You're the prettiest girl around; well, that and you're one of the few I can hold an intelligent conversation with, and Sarah doesn't count. She's my older sister, I can't take her!"

Cloud laughed and looked over at her date. "Is your sister gonna like me?" she asked nervously. David grinned. "I think so. She's kind of shy, but once you get to know her she's fine. I think her and Jack have something going on-"

"Ooh," Cloud playfully cooed. "Scandalous!" David meanwhile sighed. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

"-We tells dis alley cat 'go an' get outta here before we make youse' even though he can't talk back an' make our exit outta da back. Next thing we know da stupid animal's clawed up Spec's right arm clingin' ta da back 'o' me hindquarters! We barely made it outta dere in one piece!" Racetrack finished, looking at the two girls in front of him dying with hysteric laughter. Phantom, his girl, who'd already heard it, was beginning to calm down, but Mafia showed no signs of letting up. Tears were streaming down her face as she laughed a rich and gut-retching laugh that was practically uncontrollable. Race smiled in satisfaction; this story always brought on hysterics, but Mafia's reaction was pure gold. No one had ever seen her like this before, and to be truthful it was relieving.

The leader of the street girls finally managed to get a handle on herself and looked up at Race. "An' when did dis happened exactly?" she heaved in between gasps. Race shrugged. "Let's see, we was 10 at da time, it's been 6 years since- 1893's me best bet, but Isa nova was good with numbers."

That sent both Phantom and Mafia into fits again. "Dat's crazy!" Phantom gasped, eyes watering. "Yeah Race, dat was real stupid 'o' ya," Mafia grinned, calming down faster this time. "How many 10 year olds in da city don't know dat messin' with an alley cat's bad luck?" Race turned pink and he quickly looked away. "Uh, me an' Specs Isa guess," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. Phantom chuckled weakly and laid her head back onto the couch cushions, snuggling up next to Racetrack. "Race, youse truly are a gambler," she complimented, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. "Ya almost cost yourself one getting' near dat crazy animal!"

"Yeah, about cost me a new backside too," Race grumbled. "Isa still have three racin' stripes where dat cat clawed me up. Wanna see?" The newsie pretended to get up and pull down his suspenders, which made Mafia and Phantom turn away screeching "No, no!" Race laughed and sat back down. "Isa kiddin' giorls, just kiddin'! Honestly, youse would think a guy would joke 'round here without fear 'o' rejection!"

Phantom just on a mocking look of sadness and punched him playfully in the arm. "Aw Tony, dat really hurt!" she sniffed. "Youse know we ain't _dat _serious!"

"An' Isa love ya for it!"

Mafia snorted with laughter and fanned herself, still recuperating from her spell. "Oh my goodness, dat was probably da first time Isa laughed since- Isa dunno, Phantom?" Her second shook her head. "Me neither. Isa haven't heard youse actually have since at da most maybe March." Race clunked his tongue in fake disappointment. "No laughter for over 5 months? Not healthy Maf, not healthy at all!" Mafia frowned and threw a pillow at the boy. "Aw shut up, Higgins!"

Phantom shook her head as her boyfriend tried to throw it back at her friend and missed before pulling him back into his seat. "Don't try Race," she warned. "Maf's got da best reflexes 'o' anyone in da city. She'll win in a pillow fight like it's no one's business." Race sighed but took his spot on the couch back, however reluctant he was to lose. Mafia meanwhile was sitting back in her own chair across from them, smirking. "Since when did Isa win at a pillow fight Phantom?" she asked. "Since a year ago when we duked it out back in Brooklyn," her second replied simply. "We still had fun den, remember?"

The mention of Brooklyn brought Mafia back down to earth again. Phantom was right; she hadn't had a good laugh since she and her gang had left Brooklyn, even if they had a reason not to. "Wow, dat's kinda bad," she admitted. "But it feels good ta be back ta me normal self again."

"It is kinda relieving ta see ya actually looking better," Race commented thoughtfully. "We're still young; why not enjoy it?"

Phantom nodded and raised her hand in acknowledgement. "Amen ta dat! Speakin' 'o' bein' young, ain't we goin' ta dat pub ova in Queens next week Race? Dere's supposed ta a really good singer playing on Thursday, a fellow newsgirl named Trinity. She's Queen's second, Isa heard. An' ta think youse is gonna see me in a dress too-"

AS the two rambled on about their plans Mafia sighed and glanced upstairs wistfully. "Isa think I'm gonna go lay down. Headache's killin' me an' we gotta long night ahead 'o' us." Racetrack shrugged and waved her off. "Go ahead, Maf, ya good. We don't mind, do we?" He looked at Phantom for support. When the street girl's second nodded he turned back to Mafia. "Yep, we don't mind."

"Thanks guys, Isa appreciate it." And like that Powell was gone. Phantom bit her lip. "She's getting stronger," she said. "Isa mean she's always been strong, but she's changed. First it's laughing, which is good, and den dere was goin' off ta Brooklyn with only Spot, which is also good because deys need ta get along if deys gonna strike together, but she's not as tense. Like she's returnin' ta normal."

"Aw Phantom, don't be so protective," Race chaffed. "Mafia's a big giorl; she can take care 'o' herself. Plus, she really hasn't let err' hair down in forever, takin' care 'o' five other giorls who nova been actually on da tough- lane streets like she has. Normal is good. It is good, right?"

The girl shrugged. "Isa guess. It's just dat Maf's been so closed off da past few months it's weird dat see her open up, youse know?" Race chuckled and placed his arms around his girl. "She'll be fine Phantom. Mafia Powell ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon."

Just then Jack walked into the room. "Was dat Mafia Isa just heard?' he asked curiously. "Laughin' her head off, Isa mean." "Yeah, why ya wanna know?" Race asked in replied. Jack didn't let on, just sat down on mafia's vacant seat satisfactorily. "Good," was all he said. "She needs it." And he meant it. There was comfortable silence for a bit, then Phantom turned to the Manhattan leader. "Youse takin' Sarah someplace tonight?" she questioned slyly, winking at him.

Jack nodded, a dreamy look crossing his face. "Yeah, Isa asked her ta go- wait, how'd youse know we had plans?"

"Oh c'mon Cowboy, it ain't any big secret Medda's hostin' da rally tonight!" Race exclaimed impatiently. "Besides, Davey asked Cloud ta go, an' she borrowin' one 'o' ya giorl's dresses for da occasion. Word gets around." Jack turned red and looked away. "She ain't me giorl," he muttered, embarrassed, but all the gambler couple did was grin cockily and sing-song in unison "Ri-gh-t!"

The Manhattaner just rolled his eyes and decided to let it go. "But seriously though, youse two goin' ta da rally? Denton says it does gonna be da biggest thing we've eva done. If our raid on da Center with Brooklyn didn't do da trick dis thing's gonna put us all on da map!" Racetrack laughed at his leader's enthusiasm and lightly kissed Phantom on the cheek. "Yeah Cowboy, we'll be dere. Can't miss a party, can I? With so many 'o' da poker tables an' drinks an' boroughs arrivin' ta be part 'o' our strike-"

"An' da show," Phantom added. "We won't miss that, _will _we Racetrack?" She shoved her elbow into his side until the Italian agreed. "Yeah, we'll do dat too!" Race hastily added, rubbing his ribcage. "Sheesh, Isa was getting' dere Phantom!"

The pale girl laughed while Jack got up to get ready for the rally with David. "Isa see youse down at Irving Hall in a bit youse two. Spot, Mafia, Davey an' I is gonna have ta leave in half an hour ahead 'o' time, so don't wait up, we'll already be dere. Medda wants us down at her place so we get ta rehearse our speech before da other boroughs actually get dere."

"Ooo, sounds fun!" Phantom piped up. "Is da rally formal?"

"Not too much like hoity toidy formal, but dress nice," Jack told her.

"Great!" AS Jack left to go upstairs Phantom turned to her boyfriend, smirking. "Looks like you get to see me in a dress earlier than we expected."

_Manhattan LH Upstairs Girl's Bunk Room, 1899_

Mafia tossed back and forth on her bunk, subconsciously moaning and groaning. Her silhouette could be made out through the moonlight streaming in through the window, a slender athletic girl in over-alls and a simply t-shirt with its sleeves cut off. Poor Mafia always wore long sleeves, even in the heat of summer. It was anyone's guess why, a secret long since kept from everyone in her life, even her own gang. She was dreaming, something that she hadn't done in forever. The former Brooklyn newsgirl rarely allowed herself to dream, considering it a way of bad memories to pop up after years of suppression and manifest themselves inside of her, but tonight was different. She wanted, no _needed, _to get these awful images out of her head. It had been too long….

_Outside Brooklyn LH, 1895_

"Where da youse think youse goin' missy?" a gruff and angry voice rang out behind her. Mafia whirled around to face Crypt, who was furious. She silently cursed herself; she had been _this _close to escaping Brooklyn. She hated it there, now that Crypt was King. HE had too much anger, too much power, and so much thirst for blood-

"Isa was goin' for a walk Crypt," Mafia spat out, lying through her teeth. "Ain't a crime, is it?"

Crypt laughed evilly and swiped at her arm, attempting to pull her back inside the lodging house. "It is if youse breakin' curfew," he growled. "Or did youse forget da newest rule in Brooklyn?" "Last time Isa checked we didn't have a new rule," Mafia said, easily maneuvering out of the King's reach. Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest, sweat beads forming on her brow. If she could ditch him she was free to go. Maybe she could flee to Queens, they had girl newsies there (one of them was even the second in command). Or Manhattan, Jack was there. He'd help her hide, she knew he would. They'd been friends ever since they'd helped each other escape from the Refuge ages ago-

"Well, youse just made curfew become one," Crypt snarled, snapping Mafia out of her reverie so fast she didn't have time to snatch her hand away from him. The King began dragging her back inside, grumbling. "Really Mafia, da crazy things youse do ta stretch da limits 'round here," Crypt scolded her, talking like she was a naughty child. "If youse wasn't so pretty I'd have soaked ya-"

"Let me go ya creep!" Mafia demanded, pulling her arm out of the boy's grip. "I'm goin' an' youse can't stop me-"

Before Mafia could finish Crypt lashed out, letting his fist connect with her jaw. The lithe girl was thrown back into the wall and slumped down onto the ground, barely conscious and breathing shallowly. Her gray eyes widened in fear as Crypt loomed over her. "Watt did youse say ta me?" he hissed, seizing Mafia's left arm and reaching into his back pocket. The King pulled out a small razor blade, not long enough to kill but sharp enough to inflict severe pain. "Youse was gonna leave Brooklyn, weren't ya Mafia?" he rasped, pressing it deep into her wrist. The girl screamed in agony as she tried to free her arm, it hurt so bad. "Well, we can't have dat, youse is one 'o' da leaders. Watt would da other think? Dat youse a coward?"

Mafia didn't reply, but she didn't need to. As quickly as the torture had begun in stopped. Crypt suddenly threw down her arm and backed away, admiring his 'handiwork'. "Just a little reminder as ta who's in charge 'round here Powell," he whispered as he disappeared into the boys bunkroom. "Now everyone knows who youse _really_ belong to."

The newsgirl watched him go through her tears, making sure he was gone completely before she took a look at the damage he had done. Blood streamed down her arm and dripped onto the floor, speckling it red. The tiny little slits forming words were beginning to rise up. They would never heal. Trembling, Mafia quietly shifted into the balled up position against the entrance hall of the lodging house. Tears carved a path down her cheek, but she refused to outright cry.

_Make the pain stop God…. _She prayed, pleading desperately. _Please make it stop… _

_Manhattan LH Upstairs Girl's Bunk Room, 1899_

"Hey Mafia, youse decent?" a voice ran out, startling the nightmarish girl from her less than pleasant slumber. It belonged to Spot, who was impatient taping his cane outside her closed door. "Go away Conlon, Isa tryin' ta sleep!" Mafia shouted at him, throwing one of her two pillows at the door. "Come back when it's time ta leave!"

"It _is_ time ta leave!" Spot called back to her. "Medda wants all four 'o' da leaders 'o' da strike at her place ta rehearse. She especially wants ta see youse!" Without warning, the King of Brooklyn swung the door wide open to try and get the street girl out of bed, which startled Mafia so much she automatically rolled out onto the floor, clutching her old slingshot from when she was still the Brooklyn newsie. Spot instinctively ducked as she fired several rounds at his head, hitting three times and missing once due to lack of energy before realizing what she was doing. Spot groaned and scrambled to his feet, glaring at her. "Watt was dat for?"

Mafia snorted. "Youse stormed in here an' caught me with only me undershirt on, Conlon. Any girl woulda hurled something at ya too." Spot let a smile play on his lips. "But youse ain't any other giorl; youse a veteran newsgirl with mad slingshot skills ta boot. Besides, at least youse _had _a shirt on. By da way, Isa didn't know ya still had dat old thing on youse." He pointed towards the worn slingshot in her hand.

"Or else you'd have done _watt_?" Mafia pressed, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Isa woulda taken it off youse!" Spot finished, chortling. "God knows youse is dangerous enough wide awake. A half awake Mafia Powell is half crazed an' all fire!" Mafia just shrugged and stowed away her slingshot again. "Isa nova uses it anymore," she admitted "just in emergencies. Isa don't need a constant reminder 'o' Brooklyn every day 'o' me life."

Spot seemed disappointed at this, but whatever he was thinking seemed to disappear once he got a good look at Mafia. Especially her wrist. Without hesitation he grabbed her arm to get a closer look at it, but just a quickly Mafia snatched it away again. The dream was still fresh in her mind. "Watt's on youse hand?'"Spot demanded, swiping at her again. Mafia expertly danced beyond Spot's range, but all the Brooklyn boy did was step closer, and Mafia was running out of places to duck out into. "It's nothing Spot, drop it," she tried to say, but before she could Spot grabbed her arm again.

This time, however, Mafia relented. She knew he wouldn't quit until she did. Spot quickly ran his fingers over the raised scars, which caused an involuntary gasp from Mafia as she felt the pain shoot up her arm. Spot didn't seem to notice; he was too busy studying the lettering carved into her skin. It seemed like ages before he finally made a sound. "When did dis happen?"

"A while back Spot, Isa told youse its nothing-"

"No, it's something, don't it isn't!" Spot retorted, glaring at her. "Who did is?"

"It's not important-"

"Who did it Mafia?" Spot shouted at her, fury flashing inside his icy blue pupils. They were almost like slits. "Who eva did dis _is_ important, don't lie ta me!"

The street girl stared straight into Spot's gaze defiantly, her own stormy gray eyes angry but remarkably upset- even border lining scared. She slid her wrist out of Spot hand and turned away, hesitant. "Crypt," she finally said. "Crypt did dis."

"How?" Spot demanded.

"Razor blade. He cut deep, drew a lot of blood."

"Where?"

"Brooklyn lodging house."

"When?"

"Spring, 1895. April Isa think. Dat was when he first took ova."

"_Why_?"

At that Mafia was silent. Spot, now fully realizing how harsh he had been, regretted it instantly and placed what he thought was a reaffirming hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. "Maf, youse gotta tell me," he said quietly. "If it was Crypt den he has ta pay. You know dis-"

"But Isa don't think _youse _do!" Mafia suddenly snapped, pivoting around and shoving the King of Brooklyn back a couple feet. "Isa don't answer ta youse Spot, not here, not now, not eva again, youse hear me? Isa got me own secret like youse have youse own, but da difference is dat I keep my curiosity ta me self while youse try an' learn everyone else's! Why can't youse just let me be? Ya nova started carin' 'bout me until Isa showed up last week, so why should ya start now?"

Spot, shocked at Mafia's outburst, stepped back contemplating. "Isa nova didn't care 'bout youse Maf," he whispered quietly. "I'm askin' 'cause Isa care, an' no matta watt youse think Isa always will." Mafia looked him up and down several times, trying to see if he was lying. When she finally (and correctly) decided he wasn't she sighed, running her hands through her blonde pixie cut hair in defeat.

"Crypt caught me leavin' Brooklyn one night," she admitted, staring out into the distance. "Isa didn't like da way he was runnin' things an' da way he would look at me. Isa nova figured Isa would get outta dere before he did anything really bad, but he saw me sneakin' out an' brought me back. Isa protested, we fought, he knocked me ta da ground an' cut me up. Dere was blood everywhere, an' by da time he was done slicing up me wrist all Isa wanted ta do was die. He just got up an' left aft' dat, statin' dat now Isa knew who was boss an' now Isa belonged at Brooklyn for good."

Spot looked down at her wrist again, the words that were forever etched upon her skin suddenly clear.

_Brooklynite_

He sighed and pulled away. "I'll meet youse down at da theatre in a bit," he informed her. "Don't be late." Mafia waved him off and stayed in her spot until he left. Then she slipped her slingshot into her back pocket with several smooth rocks for good measure, a habit long since stopped but beginning to revive with the reappearance of Crypt. She then threw a red shirt on and slid out of the lodging house, hoping that this time no one would show up and ruin the rally.

_Border of China Town, 1899_

"Now why are we doin' dis again?" Kid Blink asked carefully as he, his best friend and their girls stopped just shy of the border of China Town. "Dis area ain't been informed 'o' da rally yet an' dey need ta come, genius!" Mush repeated for the final time. "If youse to chicken ta come along we can g without youse if ya want!"

"Oh Mush, be polite!" Witch scolded, scanning the perimeter around them warily. Her sister did the same, her bright green eyes darting around as if looking for someone. "Dat's odd," Lucky muttered, almost to herself. "Not a soul's 'round. Dey jacked up da prices for papes here too; plus dere Distribution Center's just a block away. At least _he_ should be here-"

"Maybe he took da day off," Witch suggested. "Not everyone's on strike ya know. Only Manhattan an' Brooklyn are as of now."

Lucky shook her head. "Still, something's amiss…" No sooner had she said that when a sharp cry pierced the twilight air. "It is some scabs!" an accented boy's voice rang out from a nearby alleyway, filed with broken English. "Let us get them!" At once seventeen Chinese citizens poured out into the streets and rushed at them, chanting in Chinese and shouting profanity. Blink and Mush got ready to fight, but all Witch did was scream "Stop!" And they did. The Chinese all froze and stared at her, some of them anchor children, a few dozen generations down from immigrants and others just fresh off the boat. The two boys were surprised that they listened to the girl, much less did as she asked.

Lucky, being better with words, stepped forward to address the small crowd. "We're here ta see Ping!" she announced, craning her neck to see if this Ping guy was among the other newsies. One of the girls, a bit shorter than the twins but with a big mouth, got up in Lucky's face, sneering. "No one sees Ping, not without an appointment," she leered. "And as far as I know, you do not. You are scabs anyways, why should _we _trust _you_?"

"We ain't scabs!" Mush protested angrily. Blink nodded in agreement furiously. "Yeah, we're Cowboy's newsies, not some yellow-bellied scabbas here movin' in on youse land! We wanna talk ta Ping, now."

"Watt me boyfriend means ta say is dat we're here on business, not sellin' papes," Lucky quickly stated, trying to defuse the Chinese girl's wrath. "We need ta see Ping in regards ta dis strike we're havin', which is why we came here-""Hey, Isa know dat voice!" a cry came out from at the back of the group. The children parted to make way for a tall lanky boy with a limp, who was grinning in delight. He quickly made his way up to the twins and wrapped them both in a friendly hug. "Hey guys, it is the Red Twins! You know, the girls who helped get Cho out of that factory fire? Well, these are them!"

Witch laughed in relief and pulled Mush to her side, grinning. "Nice ta see ya Ping, it's been a while. Dis is Mush, an' Lucky's boy ova dere is Kid Blink. Dere helpin' out with da strike." Ping nodded thoughtfully, waving them both in as acknowledgement. "So my borough heard. They made the prices go up here as well. But really, a strike Witch, Lucky? Is it that bad in Manhattan, or are the men over there just blowing off- how do the Americans say it- hot air?" The China Town leader hastily glanced at Mush and Blink. "No offense gentlemen. It takes guts to come here, even if you do have our allies with you."

"None taken," Blink replied, a bit disgruntled nevertheless. "So, youse thinkin' 'bout joinin' da strike or something? 'Cause dere's a rally tonight in 'Hattan an' all da other boroughs an' territories is gonna be dere-"

"All except youse," Mush finished. "We came ova here ta try an' get youse ta see da light, pardon da speech." Ping inclined his head slowly and frowned, pondering this. "It is a bold risk, going up against the newspaper men of the _World_ and the _Journal_. Powerful men, very big in politics, many friends, plenty of influence, and lots of connections." Then he grinned. "But we are powerful too, yes?"

The boy was speaking towards his borough people now rather than his visitors. "We have many voices, plenty to say. We are not big and wealthy, but we are those that make the _World _go around! We will not take this nonsense, will we? Are we going to stand up for our rights as Americans, or will our voices be drowned out by the men whom have made our lives like tiny ants, stepped upon and silenced? Shall we strike?"

"Yes!" screamed the crowd.

"And we will rise forth and make our cases against the newspaper men?"

"Yes!"

"And we will win?"

"Yes!"

Ping turned back to the twins and nodded lightly. "Ok, we're in."

Lucky laughed and patted Ping on the back before starting to lead the group of visitors back to Manhattan. "Thanks Ping, we won't forget it. See youse tonight?" The boy shrugged. "Yes, at the theatre filled with red velvet seats and golden alcoves. We will come to help our friend the Manhattan men. We are on strike!" That sent another wave of shouts through the Chinese newsie crowd. The twins thanked Ping again and started to leave. Once the four were farther away from China Town Mush started to laugh. "Wow, da Chinese are pretty passionate 'bout dere causes ain't dey? All dem speeches an' whippin' dem kids into da frenzy? Youse'd think dat it was da Revolutionary War all over again!"

Witch sighed and shrugged her shoulder casually. "Welcome ta China Town."

**K, how was that? Sorry it took so long, but you all know how life is. Challenge still stands; which one of my stories is Racetrack's past the same and a new one; who's the second of Queens Mafia mentions (again, from one of my other stories). Review, like, favorite, anything! I want at least 30 reviews before I start up again!**

**-Rellimmes**


	10. Chapter 10

**Yea, we're past 30 reviews! (If I come across as greedy I'm sorry)but I want more than this! Anyone and Everybody, review, like, comment, favorite, do it multiple times if you must! WE WILL BEAT 40 REVIEWS! Seize the Moment (or Day if you prefer) and tell me you like it, I beg you! **

**Ok, now that's I'm done ranting, let's go-**

_Irving Hall, Manhattan 1899_

"Mia, is that you?"

Mafia snapped her head around to see a beautiful lady in flowing purple skirts trudging down the red-carpeted isle of the theatre towards her, trying to get to her faster but tripping over her dress every time she tried. It was Medda Larkson, more commonly known as the Swedish Meadowlark, the owner of the theatre as well as Mafia's old mentor. The woman had taken her on as a student years ago and turned her natural ability to dance into a real show-stopper, something that only select few (aka, the Manhattan newsies) really knew about. Not a soul in Brooklyn minus her own gang knew that Mafia would sneak out on Friday nights and perform, not even Crypt.

"Medda!" the girl cried out, racing towards the actress to spare her the energy of walking all towards the back of the hall to see her. Medda quickly wrapped her protégée in a tight embrace, refusing to let go until Mafia tapped her on the shoulder. Stepping back, she quickly surveyed her. "Oh my goodness, you've grown so tall!" she gasped, grinning pleasantly. "So slender, and look at those legs of yours! Give you a year or two and you'll have men _fawning_ over you, so gorgeous! I knew you'd be gone a while, considering your position, but I never realized it'd be this long or you'd change so much!"

The street girl blushed and looked at her feet humbly. "Isa ain't nothin' ta look at Medda, honestly-"

"Nonsense!" Medda interjected, waving her comment off. "You look like a true actress! Where are the rest of your ladies, certainly they didn't ditch you?" Mafia shook her head. "Naw, deys still 'round. Dere gonna be here late, I'll tell youse wanna see em'." "Perfect dearie!" Medda gushed. "Now, I had an idea-"

"Wait, watt did youse say?" Spot appeared out of nowhere, although Mafia realized that David, Jack and him must've been at the stage with Medda rehearsing before she'd shown up. The King was now at Mafia's side in an instant, looking at Medda curiously. "Youse knew da giorls left Brooklyn a year ago?"

"Of course I did Mr. Conlon!" Medda replied, chuckling as though it was nothing serious. "Mia had to tell me she was going to be gone a while so that I wouldn't worry. I lost my best performer, after all!" Spot then turned to Mafia, who was thoroughly embarrassed. "Performer? Mia? Maf, youse wanna tell me something?"

But she didn't have to. Jack was already talking for his friend, as to save her further self-humiliation. "Youse kiddin' Spot? Mafia's a star- at least 'round she is, Isa dunno if she told anyone if Brooklyn where she went every Friday aft' sellin' papes. Her stage name's Mia Antoine, Queen 'o' New York, an' boy is she! Has youse eva seen her dance? It's like nothin' youse eva seen, she's amazin'-" Jack rattled on a bit more before he caught Mafia's glare. "-But, um, yeah, she's pretty good."

Spot raised his eyebrow mischievously as he looked Mafia up and down, grinning like he was impressed. "Is she now? Isa just might have ta see dis." Mafia groaned, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temples exasperatedly. "So, watt's da word as far as da speech goes, Medda?" she asked abruptly, trying to change the subject.

It worked. Medda lit up again as she turned towards the stage, elegantly waving her hand towards it for dramatic effect. If there were two things Mafia could do, it was fight and act. She knew most of Medda's secrets that kept the boys entertained, and her 'dramatic pauses' as she called them were just a few. "Well then, that's an excellent question!" She looked at the boys, evidently disappointed. "What exactly _are_ we doing?" Mafia tried to stifle a laugh while the three strike leader turned red and avoided eye contact. They obviously hadn't been rehearsing like Mafia had thought.

"I got an idea," David offered. "Why don't we all get up there; Jack talks the most about the strike, because he's the leader and Spot stands up there for the support, because without him no one's going to want to join up with us. If they know he's with us, then they're on board too."

"An' where is youse, may Isa ask?" Spot questioned grumpily. "Backin' out on us already, Walkin' Mouth?" Mafia shoved him in the side. "Aw play nice Conlon, he ain't getting' away with puttin' youse two up dere without him up dere too," she pointed out. "Davey, youse gonna be on da other side 'o' Jack, helpin' im' out. Youse da brains behind dis; make sure deys know it."

David bit his lip, reluctantly nodding in agreement. "Alright, then you're up there with us. You're one of the leaders after all; make sure everyone else realizes it."

Mafia didn't like the boy turned her mouth back onto her, but fortunately she was saved before she soaked the living daylights out of him. "Actually dear, Mia isn't going to be able to join you three," Medda suddenly informed the boys. All four newsies stared at the Swedish Meadowlark in shock.

"She ain't?" Jack repeated quizzically.

"She's not?" David's jaw dropped open.

""O' course she is, watt is youse talkin' 'bout!" Spot objected.

"I'm not!" Mafia's voice sighed in relief.

"She isn't," Medda repeated. "Mia is going to be performing the opening cat before you three come on, just so everyone's attention is already onstage." "I am?" Mafia asked, suddenly panicked. "But Isa can't be, Isa haven't performed in ova a year!" Medda just laughed and wrapped her arm across her protégée's shoulders in a motherly fashion. "You'll be fine dearie, you always did well in front of Manhattan, and you didn't have time to practice before the show except on Friday afternoons!"

Mafia sighed. "But Medda-"

"No no, no 'buts'' about it!" Medda insisted, taking hold Jack and David's shoulder and leading them backstage. "You're going to be a star dearie, and you're performing tonight! Now then, I have to do get these two procrastinators to work, but you're free to go until an hour before guests start arriving, you hear? I'll need you in the dressing room for costume and make-up, so don't be late!"

The girl nodded silently and watched Medda go, only turning away when Spot was suddenly beside her side. "Well den, it's been quite da day!" he smirked at her. "All 'o' youse secrets are comin' ta light now, ain't dey Mafia?" "Don't get used ta it Conlon," Mafia muttered, walking off towards the balcony, her favorite pre-show hang-out. "Aft' all dis is ova youse ain't gonna be hearin' any more 'o' em'."

Spot meanwhile had followed her up the stairs and sat down next to her, propping his feet up on the railing like he owned the place. "Don't youse have ta go ova dat speech 'o' yours with dem other two?" Mafia asked grouchily. Spot shrugged, clearly not catching his cue to leave. "Why listen ta something youse ain't gonna be commentin' on?" he replied simply. "But enough 'bout me; when was youse gonna tell da rest 'o' us youse danced at Medda's?" Mafia punched the King playfully in the arm, trying her best to look disgruntled. "Ah, let's see- hmm- oh yeah- how 'bout NEVER!" she chuckled. "Watt da youse think Isa am, an open book? Everyone has secrets, an' Isa have mine, simple as dat."

"How many is Isa exactly gonna see once dis is all ova?" Spot joked. Mafia groaned. "Hopefully no more den dese."

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

"No, Les, she's _can't_ sleep over at our house tonight!"

"But why?" the little boy whined, looked up pitifully at his older brother. "You let Henry come, and Daniel, even James! And what about Mandy, she comes over too! What about _her_?"

David sighed, running his hands through the back of his curly brown hair. Les didn't understand the circumstances revolving his new friend just yet, and here he was trying to explain them to him. "Amanda's our cousin," David told his brother for the millionth time. "She's family; Daisy, Les, she may be your friend but it wouldn't be proper. What would Mom and Dad think?"

Les stamped his foot in frustration, glancing at Daisy exasperatedly like _can you believe this guy _before looking p at his older brother once more. "They would think that I was being kind and think that Daisy is a nice person," he stated proudly, puffing up his chest. "What's so bad about that?"

The middle Jacobs child groaned, putting his hands on his hips and staring down at Les sternly, trying not to lose his temper. "Alright now, let me hear this again; which one of you's idea was this?"

"Mine," Les told David, looking back at Daisy for support. The tiny newsgirl was nodding solemnly. "It's true; he brought it up."

The boy pondered this, contemplating how he could break the news delicately to Les. Finally he decided there was no other way to put it nicely. "Les, Daisy can't sleep over at our house because Daisy's a girl," the older boy explained. "Do you know how scandalous that would be?"

"How scandalous what would be?"

All there newsies whirled around to see a pretty brunette standing in the doorway. She had slender shoulder and the lithe figure, but the way she carried herself implied that she was a hard worker and someone to be respected. It was Sarah Jacobs herself, David and Les's older sister (and ever since they'd gone on strike the official breadwinner of the family).

Sarah took one look at Les's distraught face and immediately crossed over to his side of the room, picked him up and allowed him to bury his face in her shirt, hiding his tears. "Davey, what did you do now?" she turned to her other sibling, glaring at him. "What did you say as so scandalous that our Les, who's only a nine year old, would be so upset about?"

The younger Jacobs boy mumbled something unintelligible into Sarah's shoulder, but apparently the girl understood it fine, as she continued to glare at David. "Of course Daisy can come over and spend the night, Les. David, why did you tell him he couldn't, he's had his little friends over before!"

"Because-"

"And who is this Daisy anyways," Sarah cut him off "another newsie?"

"Here I am!" Daisy shouted, hopping up and down, eager to get Sarah's attention. The oldest Jacobs pivoted around, Les still in her arms, to see a tiny blonde girl, barely nine, staring up at her. "An' Mouth said dat Isa couldn't come 'cause Isa a giorl!" Sarah gasped and quickly set Les onto a couch to lean over and get at Daisy's eye level. "Why, aren't you the _cutest_ little thing I've ever seen shuffling papers!" she exclaimed, ruffling Daisy's hair affectionately. "You must be Daisy."

"Yep!" the little newsgirl told her happily. "Can Isa stay ova at Les's house?"

Before David could refuse again Sarah quickly said "Yes, why not dear? I think you and my little brother are going to have fun!" She looked over at David. "Of course, we're going to have to ask our parents, but I don't see a problem with it." She glared pointedly at him. David groaned and pulled his sister off to the side. "Sarah, she's a girl!" he interjected, motioning towards the two littler ones off to the left. Who were busy celebrating their victory thanks to the heroine Sarah Jacobs. "Can't you see that the neighbors would talk if we did that?"

"Oh Davey," Sarah sighed, patting him to the shoulder lovingly. "You sound like one of those snotty girls I had to put up this at school, always worrying about what others think. So what? I assure you Les and Daisy don't think the way that we would; they're not _that _mature yet! They just want to be friends, and that's what we'll allow for now. I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't mind, they're only kids. Ok?"

The boy grumbled, but in the end he gave in. "Fine, I'll allow it. But on a happier note, what are you even doing here? Wasn't Jack supposed to pick you up?"

"He did," a deeper, more pleasant voice said. It was Jack, who'd just walked into the room. "He just had ta get something real quick." The strike leader wrapped his arm around Sarah's shoulders, looking at David pointedly, much like Sarah had done earlier. "By da way Dave, someone tagged along here with us. Said something 'bout youse sendin' her ova ta youse place ta find Sarah an' ask for a dress. Youse know anything 'bout dat?"

"Cloud!" David exclaimed, suddenly nervous. "Yeah, I sent her over to find Sarah an' ask for something to wear for the rally later. Where is she?"

"Over in the hallway David," Sarah smiled, enjoying her brother's moment of shock. "She's really nice, I like her. You'd better take good care of this girl, you hear me?"

"Now you sound like Mom," David muttered, but he didn't really mean anything harmful by it. He was too busy staring at his date, who had just walked in wearing a snow white dress with lace and was blushing furiously. "Whoa, Cloud," David gasped. "You-look- well, uh- you look great!"

Cloud looked over nervously at her new friend Sarah, who nodded reassuringly. "You really think so?"

David crossed over to her and offered her his arm. "I know so? You ready to go?" Cloud nodded. "Sure? You guys ready?" Jack and Sarah grinned and went out the door first. "So Jack," Sarah was saying. "Who're all the people I'm going to meet at this rally?" Jack laughed as they made their way down the Lodging House stairs. "Oh, dere's gonna be lots 'o' people," he chuckled nervously. "Youse gonna meet most 'o' da newsboys dat Davey, Les an' Isa sell with, but youse also gonna meet dere giorls. Would youse believe dat every giorls dat Cloud runs with hooked up with one 'o' da guys from 'Hattan?"

"No, don't think I would."

"Me neither! Phantom, the gang's second, she's with Racetrack, me own second in command. Deys watt we cal da gambling couple, since deys both go ova ta Sheepsted Track. Dere's Cloud, who ya already met, an' den dere's da twins Witch an' Lucky, two red headed trouble makers if youse eva saw some! Deys datin' Mush an' Kid Blink. Dem two newsboys is from 'Hattan, an' two best friends ta boot! Let's see, da last giorl's mafia Powell, dere leader, but she ain't with no body yet. Oh, Isa gotta tell youse 'bout Mafia! We've known each other forever, right when we broke outta da Refuge together. Right piece 'o' work'; tough as nails (though Isa guess youse gotta be if ya from Brooklyn), a real street rat, one 'o' da best people Isa know-"

"Oh is she?" Sarah replied slowly, glancing t Jack warily, but the last part of her sentence was missed as the couple went out of ear shot. Cloud glanced at her date nervously. "Do youse think Sarah's gonna be ok with dat?' she asked. "Jack bein' old friends with Mafia an' all."

"She'll be fine," David assured her. "Mafia and Jack never was an item, never will be since they've already stated they aren't each other's type and agreed, so Sarah will probably say something to her once they meet, but once Mafia explains that they're just friends I think they'll get along alright after that."

"That's good," Cloud breathed a sigh of relief. "I'd hate to think I'd be friends with two enemies!"

_Irving Hall, Manhattan, 1899_

Mafia was startled away by the sound of yelling and laughter. She took a quick glance at her surrounding; she was backstage, sitting in a spare chair, the place she had migrated to after the balcony view had gotten boring. Snoozing next to her down on the floor with his back resting against the wall was a clearly exhausted Spot, whom actually appeared quite peaceful when he was sleeping, much to Mafia's surprise.

Quietly getting up and slipping out of the west theatre wing, Mafia braved a peek from out behind the red curtains. To her delight she saw almost all the New York newsboy boroughs had arrived at the rally; Coney Island was just arriving, the Bronx hung out near the bar off to the side, and black-clad Queens was sitting in the back (the street girl could see their leader, the Queen of Queens, talking in hushed tones towards a scarred- up boy that looked like her second. Mafia shrugged; Queen _had_ always been a secretive and dangerous bunch).

Even China Town had bothered to show up. Mafia grinned as she spotted Witch, Mush, Lucky and Blink talking with Ping and Swifty, a Manhattan newsie who was related to the China Town leader. Sliding the curtain shut again and praying no one had seen her, Mafia tip-toed back towards the west wing to wake Spot and get into her costume (personally tailored by Medda). It was to her great surprise when she approached the King and made him out to be sleep-talking!

Mafia held her tongue to try and keep it from bursting forth with laughter and bent over near his face to hear what he was saying. But as early as her laughter had rumbled in her stomach it died, just as soon as she realized what he was saying;

"Maf-"Spot mumbled, tossing and turning like he was in the midst of a nightmare. "No- don't- please, stop!- don't- hurt – Mafia-" The blonde flashed back to her discovery of Spot's sketch of her and unconsciously touched her back pocket, where the item could be found. She felt the blood rushed out of her face and almost punched the King, but Mafia pushed her anger aside long enough to shake him away. "Hey, hey Conlon!" Mafia hissed, smacking him on the back of the head. "Youse gotta get outta here! Show's gonna start in a few an' youse boys is here!"

Spot's icy blue eyes snapped open and he jumped to his feet suddenly, barely even awake. "Maf- wait, what?"

"Youse fell asleep," Mafia muttered, not making eye contact with him. She couldn't, not after this. And to think they'd gotten along perfectly fine just hours ago- "Now get movin', Isa gotta show ta do!"

"Isa had da weirdest dream," Spot murmured, evidently not hearing a word Mafia had said, which irked her. He stared over at her with wide eyes. "Youse were dere. Isa was in a room, no light, no nothin'. Ya voice kept ringing out, screamin', but it came from everywhere…"

"Yeah yeah, Isa was in ya dream," Mafia rushed, not eager to listen to the boy. She steered the half-awake King over towards the EXIT STAGE door and pushed him through. "Now go find Cowboy an' David, show's gonna start, like Isa said a million times-"

"Ya did?"

Mafia groaned and slammed and door in his face, then hurried towards Medda's dressing room. She arrived there without a minute to spare. "Hey Medda, Isa here!" she called, squinting her eyes into the pink room. In a swirl of pink and purple glory her teacher rushed over and pushed her down into a chair, facing her into the cracked mirror. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show!" Medda chuckled, taking a brush to Mafia's pixie cut (not that she needed it) to puff it up. "Those newsies are going to _love_ you! Especially Mr. Conlon."

Mafia froze and stared at Medda strangely. "Where'd youse come up with dat?" she asked suspiciously. Medda laughed as she added pink lipstick to Mafia's full lips. "It's not too hard to figure out dearie," she said. "Plus Jack said something during rehearsal. Did you know has a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, David's sister Sarah," Mafia agreed. "Real nice from watt Isa heard. But dat ain't da point; Isa don't like im' an' Isa nova will,. By da looks 'o' things." Medda raised a single eyebrow, curiosity glittering in her green eyes. "Oh really? This coming from the girl who just a year ago confessed that she had a crush on the King of Brooklyn!"

Mafia turned pink but rolled her eyes. "Dat was ages ago Medda," she sighed. "Plus Isa just found out-"

"Found out what dear?" Medda asked, impatient to hear the detail. She then realized upon Mafia's silence that she'd interrupted and silenced her rambling. "Sorry Mia, please go on."

Mafia exhaled a held-in breath. "Witch an' Lucky found a portrait 'o' me in Spot's back pocket," she informed her mentor. "He had a Brooklynite named Sketch draw it, an' it's real good too, with all me features an' details just right, it's beautiful- but dat ain't dat point- how am Isa supposed ta deal with something like dat? I've nova had dis happen before; much less with someone Isa cared deeply 'bout, an' now dat it has Isa dunno how ta respond ta it!" The girl was up and pacing furiously now, up and out of her chair like she was ready to bolt at any given moment.

"Crypt's tryin' ta get at me, Medda, _me_!" Mafia sobbed dryly. "An' he's gonna kill everyone Isa care 'bout ta do it! Isa can't have feelings right now; it'll place everyone in danger. It'll be my fault dere dead if Isa get any more people involved- oh gosh he's probably out dere right now plotting ta get at one 'o' da giorls- Isa have ta keep em' safe!"

Medda saw that Mafia was barely keeping herself together and quickly sat her back down, trying to cool her tension off. "Mia, you're going to be fine," Medda told the distressed girl, rubbing her gently on the arm. "I get that you're trying to keep your gang and friends safe; really, I do. You've been keeping them alive singlehandedly for the past year for crying out loud, you feel responsible if they get hurt! You trained yourself long ago, even before you came to Brooklyn, to keep yourself emotionally detached from the ones you are attracted to, mainly so you don't have to worry about someone using them against you or hurting the ones you love. It's noble Mia, it's honorable and so very hard, I don't know how you've managed from these past few years along with the abuse and neglect, but you've got to stop! You have to be _human _again Mia, do you understand me?"

The dancer looked up at her mentor sorrowfully. "Isa don't even remember watt ta be human feels like Medda," she whispered softly. "It's that bad."

The Vaudeville singer bit her lip as she pulled the girl into a hug. "You'll know when it comes around Mia," she promised. "You'll remember." Then she looked the girl in the eyes and grinned. "Now go get dressed; those newsies aren't going to wait forever!"

**I'm so so so so so so **_**so**_** sorry this chapter's late, I really am. But winter exams' are really a pain in my neck, and on top of them Christmas. I'm trying to update as fast as I can before the holidays kick in and I go on vacation, but if this is it MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to me! (December 23) Wish me luck and maybe I'll update before Christmas Eve!**

**Merry CHRISTmas,**

**-rellimmes **


	11. Chapter 11

**Praying for those affected by the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut. God Bless You!**

_Irving Hall, Manhattan, 1899_

Spot quickly found a seat at Jack's table with David, Cloud and his sister Sarah and pivoted his chair towards the stage. Looking back at David he whispered. "So we go on aft' Mafia gets done with da openin' act or before?" David rolled his eyes but answered anyways. "You should've paid attention to Medda, Spot, but yeah, we go on after Mafia finished dancing. But remember, she isn't Mafia Powell onstage- she's Mia Antoine."

The King of Brooklyn nodded absentmindedly and gazed out over the crowd. She ignored Jack's conversation with Sarah and David's boring discussion of literature with Cloud, instead deeming it necessary to keep watch for anything suspicious and out of the ordinary. He knew Crypt was dead set on trying to upset the rally, but hopefully with the security measures in place they could prevent such a catastrophe.

Suddenly Jack's voice rang out over the crowd, bouncing off the walls and quieting the newsboys around the hall. Spot hadn't even noticed him get up on the stage. "Alright everybody!" the Manhattaner shouted, grinning from ear to ear. "We're all glad youse could make it out tonight, really we are. But before we get started we gotta openin' act. It is me great pleasure ta announce da long-awaited return 'o' da New York Vaudeville's finest dancer, Miss Mia Antoine!"

The boys from Manhattan and a many of the Brooklyn boys whooped and hollered along with the rest of the newsie union as they all turned their heads towards the stage. Spot watched as the red curtain drew open to reveal a beautiful girl dressed in a long-sleeved black leotard, black tights and matching tap shoes, Mafia to be exact. Her pixie cut blonde hair and stormy gray eyes seemed to fit in just right with the clean cut costume, which stood out amidst the ragged army that was the newsboy's dalliers.

Mafia stood in the middle of the stage for a split second, surveying the enormous crowd, and for the first time Spot saw that she was nervous. Not the scared kind, just the normal butterflies in stomach kind when one does something for the first time. Every soul in the audience stared up at her in silence, Mafia took a deep breath that Spot was sure only he heard….

…..And she began to dance.

_Irving Hall Stage, Manhattan, 1899_

**(AN:) I found a video on YouTube I think went well with the dance I had in mind for Mia to do. If you want to see it the link's on my profile page****) **

Mafia felt like her heart was about to burst as she spun around the dance floor. It had been AGES since she'd felt this happy! The almost forgotten steps swirled inside her head, coming back as clear as day-

_Hop 1 2- spin 3 4- dive 5 6- continue 7- down, clasp hands 8. _

_Step 1- glide 2 3- twirl 4 5 6- tumble 7 8. _

_Spin on right foo 8- breath, step down, foot back up 1 2 3- spi 8._

_Leap while spinning 4 eight counts-_

_Repeat sequence. Repeat sequence again. Repeat sequence four times over-_

The sequence went on for what seemed like forever, but Mia didn't notice. She was too lost in the music, the sound of Medda's voice singing her dancing song, the waves of achievement thrilling her into greater performance. It was the greatest feeling in the world!

_Irving Hall Audience, Manhattan, 1899_

Spot Conlon was in awe. He couldn't take his eyes off of the wondrous creature that had taken over Mafia Powell. Mafia the cold hardened streeter, Mafia the dineros, Mafia the cruel leader of the Brooklyn rats; she was everything Mia Antoine was, but Mia Antoine brought out the best of it. They were one in the same; beautiful, strong, intelligent, powerful and completely in control; yet they were two completely separate people. Spot couldn't imagine how Mafia had kept this side of her to herself for so long-

But she hadn't, had she? She'd shown Jack, the Manhattan boys, her gang of girls, everyone that entered Medda Larkson's theatre on Friday nights- but not him. It was the first time that Spot didn't care what secrets Mafia held. It just didn't matter.

_Irving Hall Stage, Manhattan, 1899_

_Spin on right foo 8- breath, step down, foot back up 1 2 3- spi 8._

_Hop 1 2- spin 3 4- dive 5 6- continue 7- down, clasp hands 8. _

_Step 1- glide 2 3- twirl 4 5 6- tumble 7 8. _

_Leap while spinning 4 eight counts-_

_Spin on right foo 8- breath, step down, foot back up 1 2 3- spi 8._

And then it was over.

_Irving Hall Audience, Manhattan, 1899_

Spot gave Mia her much due applause before getting up on the stage with Jack and David, ready to present the main point of the rally- the whole reason they were united as they were- the strike. Spot remembered that he wasn't supposed to say anything, just pledge his allegiance to the matter, but he could barely keep his mind on Jack's speech. His inner thoughts kept wandering off towards Mafia, but somehow the King was able to cap a lid on them while Cowboy was speaking.

"-so we gotta listen ta me friend David here when he says 'stop soakin' da scabs!" Jack was saying. Spot immediately snapped his neck over to glare at Jack. There was already some discontentment amongst the crowd at this; Racetrack down on the floor with Phantom was about ready to die laughing. "So watts are we supposed ta do ta da bums, kiss em'?" he asked sarcastically, earning him many shout-outs of approval and a snicker from his girlfriend.

Jack meanwhile rolled his eyes, to which Spot wholeheartedly thought was necessary. He didn't care for the idea himself. _A load 'o' crap if youse ask me, _he thought to himself. "Hey, any scab Isa see, Isa soak em'. Period," Spot added, which caused many of the newsies in the hall and his Brooklyn subjects to cheer on. "They're gonna be playing with my hands, alright. Cuz it ain't what they say, it's what we say. And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make `em."

But Jack and David stood firm, as well as some of the more docile newsboys in Manhattan and smaller territories that disliked the idea of war.

"Hey, if we don't act together den we're nothing-" he started to say, but almost immediately he was cut off by the loud hisses and jeers from the tougher side of New York and their newsies, mainly the Bronx, Harlem, Queens and Brooklyn. But as soon as they started they were stopped by a thundering and strong voice coming from stage right.

"All 'o' youse listen ta me!" Mafia shouted, stomping up onto the stage and pushing her way in front of Jack of everyone in the theatre could see her. She'd changed her clothing, back into overalls (cleaner mind you) and boots but leaving her black leotard suit on underneath to give her more room to move around. She stood firm, addressing the crowd with all the force she could muster- which by the looks on the crowd's faces was quite a lot.

"Look at youseselves!" she demanded, pointing at the crowd. "Seriously, look! Da ya think dis is how a union thrives? Da ya think dat we're gonna win dis thing if we're fightin' amongst even each other! It shows we're _weak_, dat we got no respect for no one, not even ourselves! Dat's watt da bosses upstairs wanna hear, dat we're nothin! An' we ain't nothin' are we?"

"No!" the newsies cried out. All thoughts of rebellion and doubt forgotten, they anxiously awaited Mafia's next words. There were even some who were hanging onto her every word, each with the same expression on their faces.

"Is dat Mafia Powell?" one asked his buddy.

"Can't be, she'd dead!"

"It is her, Isa told youse she'd be back!"

"Naw, just one 'o' err' friends Isa reckon."

"But it can't be, can it!"

"Mafia Powel's alive!"

Now Spot had known that Mafia hadn't made her presence known in New York after her and her gang's reappearance, but he hadn't expected such an excited reaction upon her return. In fact, no one besides Manhattan and Brooklyn really knew of her existence before Crypt's dethrone. But one thing was for certain; Mafia now commanded and held each and every person's respect and loyalty in that moment. But instead of wielding the power and carrying on with her speech Mafia stepped back and leaned in towards Jack's ear. "It's all yours Cowboy," she whispered, loud enough for all three boys onstage to hear but not the audience themselves. Jack nodded once and stepped up in front of the crowd as first planned.

"Alright, so like Maf said, why we starting to fight each other? It's just what the big shot's wanna see. That we're street rats! Street rats with no brains. No respect for nothing, including ourselves! So, here's how it's gonna be. If we don't act together, then we're nothing. If we don't stick together, then we're nothing. And if we can't even trust each other, then we're nothing."

Tell em' Jack!" Kid Blink yelled out from the balcony. Everyone turned to see the newsie and Witch hanging off of it, all smiles. Someone voiced concern, but Dutchy from Manhattan just laughed it off. "Don't worry 'bout it," he told the boy. "Blink's an expert at it. He ain't gonna fall."

Racetrack nodded in agreement at Blink's statement. "Yeah, we're with youse Jack," he added, wrapping an affectionately arm around Phantom. Jack grinned but grew more solemn once he turned towards Spot. The King, in turn, frowned. He knew what Jack was going to have him agree to, and he didn't like it. But once he glanced back at Mafia staring hard at him he changing his mind. If Mafia thought David's plan could work, then it most likely would. But still-

"So watt da ya say Spot?" Jack asked, spitting into his hand and holding it out for him to shake. Spot ignored the hand and stepped towards Jack, getting up in his face. Cowboy tensed but held out on his own while Mafia bit her lip, glaring at him. She seemed to be saying _if youse don't agree with dis den Isa gonna soak youse to Heaven an' back. _That was good enough reason for Spot. He slowly smiled and leaned back, impressed. "_I _say, dat what _youse_ say, is watt _I_ say." Then he spit into his own palm and shook Jack's hand. The crowd roared.

Spot glanced back at Mafia to see her relax and nod towards him, then hop off the stage to join the party down below. The Brooklynite's heart sank but he remained on the platform until Medda suddenly marched up, ready for her own number. He then quickly exited the scene, not particularly eager to join in on the Swedish Meadowlark's antics.

**(AN:) I'm extending the rally beyond just Medda's song 'Hard Times', just so I can fit everything I want into this chapter. Sorry if it's an inconvenience, but hey, this is FanFiction, not a whole book or the movie**

As he was walking around he spotted Ink, Injun and Bowler all standing off to the side and looking particularly nervous. "Heya fellas, why so glum?" he asked, raising a single eyebrow. Bowler pointed towards the back. "Someone's here dat wasn't invited," the burly Brooklynite muttered. Spot followed his gaze to see Warden Snyder sneaking alongside the back wall, smirking evilly and scanning the crowd for Jack. "An' youse didn't jump im' _why_?" Spot questioned, glaring at the three boys.

Injun bit his lip. "If we do something now den we're gonna draw attention ta da battalion 'o' bulls outside," the newsie doctor replied, still staring at the warden. "It'll cause more panic den we can handle an' get a couple people killed." "Why didn't youse say something earlier, I'd' a gone ova dere an' bashed his head in with me cane, bulls or not!" Spot snapped, looking out over the crowd again. He knew that Snyder had more of a vendetta against Cowboy than Mafia, as she'd only been in the Refuge a week and didn't have any papers to prove she'd even been put in yet, but Spot wouldn't put it past the Warden to try and kill two birds with one stone.

"Isa already sneaked outside an' saw da coppers," Ink said to Spot. "Pulitzer sent all em corrupt bulls plus his own personal hit team he brought in during da raid a few days ago. Da Delancy Brothers, Weasel, half da 21st Precinct-" Brooklyn's second leaned in closer to Spot and nodded towards the door. "Isa think even Crypt made an appearance."

The King's blood ran cold. He clutched his pimp cane tighter and soon spotted Mafia sitting down with Sarah Jacobs, having a pleasant conversation. The two were obviously unaware of the trouble brewing outside. "Go an' round up all da younger kids from all da boroughs dat attended, don't care who dey are," Spot ordered his men. "Take em' back ta da Manhattan Lodging house an' _stay_ dere until dere leaders or siblings come for em'. Dey doesn't need ta be here for dis."

Bowler and Injun took off, but Ink stayed behind. "Spot," he addressed his leader. "Watt 'bout alertin' Jack an' da other leaders? Dey should know-"

"I go it covered already," Spot interrupted, somewhat rudely. He tapped Denton, the _Sun _reporter covering the strike, on the shoulder as he brushed past. The middle-aged man turned to face the boy and grinned. "Hello Spot," Denton greeted the King, tipping his hat. "What can I do for you?"

"Ya see dat old man in black slippin' in from da back?" Spot asked, pointing the Warden out. "Isa need youse ta stall im' until we get Mafia an' Jack outta here. Can youse do dat?" Denton nodded and narrowed his eyes at the man. "So that's the man who runs the Refuge is it? Don't worry son, I'll handle him." And like that the newspaper man was gone.

Spot pivoted around to proudly smirk at Ink, who just shrugged and raced off to get his little brother and their friends out of harm's way. Spot in turn found Mafia again and started towards her.

_Irving Hall, Table #3, Manhattan, 1899_

Mafia (or as she was now, unfortunately known by, Mia Antoine) sighed as she sat herself down in one of Table #3's seat's, rubbing her temples wearily. It'd already been a busy night, not to mention her last-minute decision to save Jack's butt up on-stage. She was already regretting it, as so many people were shooting her nervous looks. It wasn't that she didn't deserve it- after all, to them she'd just risen from the dead- but it still made her uncomfortable. Unfortunately, things were about to become even more so.

Sitting off to Mia's right was none other than Sarah Jacobs, Cowboy's date. The two girls made eye contact and stared each other down coolly, sizing the other girl up, comparing notes and sneering- then bursting forth with laughter. Sarah was soon doubled over and Mafia the same, tears streaming out of both girl's eyes and clutching their stomachs for support. Once they were calmed down Sarah offered Mia her hand to shake. "I'm sorry, that was completely out of line-"she heaved, wiping her eyes and chuckling. "I never really thought that anyone would return that looks, I'm just so overwhelmed-"

"Naw, ya good," Mafia replied, smiling as she took the hand. "I'm Mafia Powell, but Isa guess youse saw Mia Antoine up dere tonight. I know ya guy Jack-"

Sarah nodded, grin fading slightly. "Yes, he mentioned you earlier, something about breaking out of the Refuge and you being his first ally from Brooklyn if I recall." Mafia snorted with laughter. "Did he now? It ain't nothing really, Isa known im' for ages. He embellishes da whole escape from Snyder's prison, all we did was sneak a ride on da back 'o' some guy's carriage…" she let her voice trail off once she glanced back at Sarah again, who squirmed in her seat a bit.

"Yes, about that," the eldest Jacobs sibling started, tapping her finger on the table nervously. "Uh, this might come out as awkward, but…. Did you and Jack ever, umm, you know… date?" Mafia blinked, startled. She hadn't really thought about the prospect of someone assuming her and the Manhattaner had once been an item; she had just assumed that since they were only friends it would be obvious to all that they hadn't been in a relationship. Now that someone had brought it up it sounded all the more so ridiculous…

"Watt? 'O' 'course not!" Mafia laughed, brushing a piece of blonde hair out of her face. "We're just friends, nothing more. Actually, we both agreed it was a good thing we aren't attracted ta each other. It might cause one 'o' us ta kill the other, we're both so alike. Isa think youse'll be good for im'. Opposites attract, ya know?"

Sarah let out a HUGE sigh of relief upon hearing that. "Ok," she breathed, smiling again. "I just thought that since you and he were so, you know, close that maybe-"

"An' youse were tryin' ta make sure youse knew watt ya were gonna step into before ya did," Mafia finished knowingly. "Isa get it, it's exactly watt Isa would do." She looked away and saw Spot standing off to the side, talking with Ink while Daisy, Les, Snipeshooter, Boots, Hotshot, Dusty, Hatter and Shark (younger Brooklyn newsies) ran past, evidentially having made friends with one another through Daisy. "Besides, Isa think I already got someone else…"

The other girl followed her gaze and nodded when she spotted whom she was referring to. "So that's Spot Conlon. Davey mention him to me a couple days ago, him and your whole situation. What's he like?"

Mafia shrugged and turned back to Sarah. The two girls seemed to get along fine, and both had a mutual feeling that they would be good friends in the future. "Isa really can't say. Some people say he's big bad royalty as far as bein' a newsie goes, filled with coldness and ta be respected or feared, an' in truth he is. If youse know im' as an acquaintance or even friend youse get ta see another side, a somewhat lighter one who protects others any way he can but can still be just as harsh as he wants. His newsies see him as a respected leader, one not to be tangled with if you will. An' den dere's me- an', well, youse can clearly see dat Isa dunno im' as well as Isa thought Isa did…"

The girls sat in revered silence for a moment, and then Sarah took her hand reassuringly. "I think you two have some of the best chemistry I've ever seen, and this is coming from a girl who has numerous friends in sticking relationships. Anyone can see how he looks at you, and you obviously have feeling for him, so why not make it official already? You're in love!"

Mafia sighed and bit down on her lip, glancing over at Spot again. "It ain't dat simple Sarah… Isa got way too many problems ta deal with my own emotions at dis rate. For cryin' out loud Isa gotta maniac tryin' ta kill me an' he ain't above usin' others Isa care 'bout ta do it! It's simpler if Isa keep my distance, at least until dis is all ova."

Sarah nodded. "Smart move-"she started to say, and then stopped once she spotted someone moving towards them. She grinned and got up to leave. "I'd better go find Les," she told Mafia, who looked up at her quizzically. "Looks like three's gonna be a crowd." She nodded towards Spot, who had come up and was standing next to Mafia expectantly. The blonde street girl nodded farewell to her new friend and turned around in her seat to face the King, barely noticing that Medda had finished her performance and the band had struck a slow but catchy tune.

"Why da youse gotta go chasin' off people like dat Conlon?" Mafia growled, glaring up at him. "Isa was actually tryin' ta have a civilized conversation!" Spot rolled his eyes and pulled her to her feet before dragging her out onto the dance floor amongst the other newsies and their girls. He twirled her in and out before speaking.

"Isa figured dis was da only place we could really talk without bein' interrupted," he said. Mafia rolled her gray eyes. "Sure it was," she replied sarcastically. She tensed up as Spot dipped her down and brought her back up. "When did youse learn how ta dance?" she asked the King, smiling devilishly. Spot shrugged. "Every guy in Brooklyn learns how at some point. But dat ain't why Isa got youse here; Warden Snyder's decided ta make an appearance."

Mafia figured that Spot expected her to freak out, but she did the exact opposite. She saw Snyder scanning and crowd and gestured towards him absentmindedly. "Youse really think he's aft' me?" she snorted. "Spot, ya off youse rocker. Snyder doesn't have anything ta bear witness dat Isa was even in his Refuge; paperwork nova got started. It only gets done if youse been in dere ova a month, an' Isa was only dere a week. Supposed ta be a year, but hey, opportunity knocked-"

"Crypt's here too," Spot cut her off, looking her straight in the eyes. "He's with Pulitzer's hit team like he was da other day durin' da raid."

The street girl felt her chest tighten and she tried to pull away from Spot, but the newsie gripped her arms as a sign for her to stay put. "Don't leave just yet," he whispered in her ear. "It'll look strange an' attract attention." "It already has, da youse see dem looks everyone's givin' us?"

"Nope." Spot's tone was calm, and if Mia hadn't looked at his facial expression she might've believed him. "Alright, as soon as dis slow song ends an' Medda gets back up onstage with da other newsies I'll lead youse off da floor an' go tell Mouth 'bout Snyder an' Crypt. He'll pass it along ta Jackie boy, an' den we all run for it, out da back door. Got it?"

Mafia glared at him. "Watt 'bout da front entrance? Crypt's probably got people in the alleys waiting for us, but dey won't expect us ta get outta da entrance hall. We'll beat em' at dere own game." Spot sighed. "Da bulls are blockin' da front gates. We have ta take our chances with street fightin'. Good plan otherwise though."

"Thanks."

The song ended followed by a reprise of Medda's 'Hard Times', during which Spot and Mafia split in order to alert their friends. Mia got the word out to Sarah and the Youngers (who were being hustled out the door by Injun as they spoke) as well as Witch, Cloud and Lucky, whom also followed suit with Daisy at their heels. Only Phantom and Racetrack were unreachable, standing up on the stage with Medda and Jack.

Mafia reached the couple right as David reached Jack and Spot reached Mafia, all three yelling to each other "It's Snyder!" Racetrack and Phantom froze in place and Jack snapped his head up just in time to see his old enemy smirking, putting a shiny metal object to his mouth.

That was when the whistle blew and the whole theatre was thrown into chaos.

**How was that? Good, bad, ok, terrible? Review people, I need ta know these things! Again, we're almost to 40 reviews, so help a gal out and push tat little blue button at the bottom, numerous time if we must! **

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO RELLIMMES- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! (Dec. 23 really, but I'm on vacation that day and might not have access to a computer, so I'm publishing early. On another note, I'm also publishing this chapter on the day the day the world's ****supposed**** to end, so you know, whatever. I don't believe that stuff, the Mayans had to stop their calendar SOMETIME!) **

**Also, as stated up topside, pray for those affected by the shooting in Colorado. I'm pretty sure they need it. **

_**Deuteronomy 31: 6**_

_**Rellimmes**_


	12. Chapter 12

**We're off to read the next chapter, the wonderful next chapter of LOST BOROUGH! Follow the ****yellow brick road ****curser down the page!**

_Alleyways of Manhattan, 1899_

Witch felt her ears perk up at the faint sound of a shrill whistle. The group of younger newsies and girls, led by Sarah, Ink, and Injun, was already several alleys away and avoiding every main street possible on their way back to the Manhattan LH, but Witch's hyped up senses were already on alert. "Did ya hear dat?" she asked her twin, who was carrying a very tuckered out Dusty.

"Yeah, something like an alarm," Lucky agreed, shifting her weight to the other side while trying to keep up with the group. "Watta youse think it was?"

Witch glanced back at the Vaudeville Theater. "A whistle," she decided. "Da Warden 'o' da Refuge's whistle. Da youse think Mush an' da other's are gonna be ok?"

Lucky bit her lip. "No," she answered honestly. "Da bulls might go easy on Mafia since she's a giorl, but da guys not so much. Dey'll get shipped off ta holding for a bit before having a swift trial by Judge 'Movealong' Monahan. Isa think dey gonna get a week or two in da Refuge, no more though. All dey got em' on is da rally."

The other red head looked ahead and sighed in relief as they reached the Manhattan LH. She grasped a boy from West End's hand tightly and led him into the house before he could break free from the group and try to run back to his territory. "Youse gonna stay here with youse friends until ya leada or sibling arrives ta get youse home. Got it?" The boy nodded silently and ran inside to join his friends he'd made at the rally, most of whom were terrified over the night's events. Ink, Sarah, Injun, Witch, Cloud, and Lucky stayed outside in the porch to talk.

"Where's Bowler?" Sarah asked, slightly concerned. "Shouldn't he be with us too?" Injun shook his head while rummaging through his medical kit. "Naw, he took da other Brooklyn kids minus da few dat came with us back ta our LH. He's third in command if Spot or me ain't dere ta handle things."

Cloud glanced up the street, towards the theatre. "Is Phantom with Mafia?" she asked quietly, afraid to know the answer. Ink nodded in reply. "Isa saw Maf reach her an' Race right as Snyder blew his dinky little whistle. Dere gonna get arrested most likely, trial an' everything. But if one 'o' da guys mentions dat Maf works at da Vaudeville dey'll let err' an' Phantom go most likely; dey'll assume dat dey was caught in da middle 'o' da riot and dere innocent-"

"Dat doesn't help out Blink an' da rest!" Lucky snapped at him, glaring fiercely. "Dey gonna be criminals for 14 days, an' probably receive more time for no reason knowin' Snyder!" Witch nodded in agreement and crossed her arms.

"But Denton will help, won't he?" Sarah asked nervously. "I mean, he's as much a part of the strike as they are, and he a reporter! If he testifies that they didn't do anything then Jack and everyone else is in the clear…. Right?"

Ink shook his head regretfully. "It ain't da way Monahan works. He'll try ta put away a many newsies as possible, an' knowin' im' he probably will find some law dat he can fit Denton into dat prohibits im' from testifyin' on our behalf."

Cloud looked at the Brooklynite curiously. "For a street rat youse seem ta know an awful lot 'bout da court system," she pointed out. Ink turned red, slightly embarrassed. "Isa had me trouble with dis particular judge more den once, an' dat's all Isa gonna say."

Sarah rolled her eyes and stared out into the darkness. "One thing's for sure," she muttered quietly, with everyone's attention upon her. "Jack and the people that got caught are in for the long haul."

_Courthouse Infirmary and later Holding Cells, Manhattan Courthouse, 1899_

Mafia awakened on a table in the courthouse infirmary by the nurse (who looked not a day order than she herself was) prodding her arm with a mental instrument and the sound of arguing outside. She opened her eyes, blinked twice and turned her head slightly to her right to see Racetrack and Mush being led away from her window, apparently being caught trying to catch a glimpse of their friend. She groaned. The back of her head throbbed and ached; her memory after the whistle blew in the theatre was gone. Mafia grew frustrated at this and sat up suddenly, much to the nurse beside her's surprise.

"Oh good, you're awake," she sighed in relief. "I was being in think you hit your head harder than I thought. Are you alright?" Mafia looked at her dully, still groggy from her bout with unconsciousness, and nodded. "Yeah Isa guess… watt happened?"

The nurse shrugged, bustling about her station while talking. "I just tend to the people they bring in," she replied. "But if you have to know, I overheard one of the officers talking as he passed by with those two boys who were trying to see you. They said something about a rally gone violent that they were called to break up. Lots of newsboys got arrested- they're behind the whole strike thing against Pulitzer don't you know?" Mafia rolled her eyes. "Isa sure," she groaned exasperatedly.

The nurse turned around with a spoon of medicine in her hand. "How much do you remember about tonight?" she asked, watching Mafia down the foul tasting liquid. The dancer frowned, shuddered after tasting and made a face. "Last thing Isa recall was dis whistled blastin' through da theatre sometime aft' me show at da rally. Isa was workin' dere with Medda Larkson, da owner." The nurse frowned just like her patient, setting the bottle of pain reliever bottle down on the table. "Well, I can't tell you what happened in between that, but you suffered a nasty blow to the head. It knocked you out for over an hour, and that's when they brought you to me."

The street girl sighed and rubbed her temples wearily. "Was Isa under arrest?" she asked carefully. The nurse shook her head. "I don't think so. You and another girl, they called her your co-worker, were carried in, both knocked out-"

"Youse mean Phantom? Pale, thin, kinda tall but not any taller den me?" Mafia sighed in relief when the nurse nodded. "Thank goodness she's alright." "Yeah, she's still out of it, but she'll come around soon," the nurse told her. "Anyways, the head officer said something about you two getting caught in the middle of the riot on accident and no charges were going to be filed. It was simply a case of wrong place wrong time as he put it." Then the girl grinned slyly. "But I know better. You're part of the strike too aren't you?"

Mafia was caught severely off-guard, and it showed. The girl quickly got over the shock and was able to bring her cluelessness façade back up, but the nurse just smiled and winking. "Oh don't worry, I won't tell. I'm dating a guy from the Bowery who's a newsie too. He got away, thank God…" her voice trailed off, and she was only brought back to reality when Mafia cleared her throat. "So, uh, can I go then," she asked. "Since I'm not under arrest or anything?"

The girl looked up from her paperwork and nodded slightly. "Sure, just sigh on the line and you're released. Your friends, the newsies in holding, they won't be so lucky. Since everyone down at the precinct thinks they're flight risk they're going to be in court in half an hour, right after the Bronx newsies get their hearing."

Mafia scribbled her real but little used name, Maria Powell, instead of her stage name Mia Antoine, just in case, thanked the nurse and headed out the door. She was already outside the courthouse waiting for Phantom, who was supposed to meet her there as soon as the nurse released her, when she realized that she was still wearing her black leotard from the performance under her overalls. She laughed to herself, even under the stress, at her foolishness and sat down on the stone courthouse railing to wait.

Minutes later Phantom came bounding out, spotting Mafia and racing over. "Oh my goodness thanks da Lord youse OK!" her second breathed. "Da boys is on trial now, deys wouldn't let me in ta see em'. Race an' Blink an' Mush an'-"

"Whoa, slow down dere Phantom!" Mafia commanded, sitting her friend down beside her and calming her down. "Now, start from da beginning, watt happened aft' da whistle blew. Me memory's still foggy."

Phantom sighed and began. "Well, aft' Snyder blew his whistle all dese copper poured in an' started ta arrest everyone in sight, most 'o' em' aft' Jack but catchin' all dat tried ta get outta da door. Race an' Isa jumped an' tried ta break for it, but at da last second Medda screamed an' he ran off ta save err'. He went down by some bull's club an' Isa tried ta get ova ta see im', but Mush grabbed me an' tried ta pull me towards da back exit with im' an' Blink, but den deys saw Jack an' let go ta try an' get im' outta dere in one piece. Isa get back ta Race, an' nearby Isa saw youse fendin' off some bulls with Ping, at least five. Maf, youse was good, real good, all punchin' an' kickin' in all da right places, fightin' 'til kingdom come, but soon dere were ten instead 'o' five an' one knocked youse out with da butt 'o' his gun. Broke youse slingshot too, pieces got thrown away."

Fuzzy images of a badge and a metal object came flying out of the depths of Mafia's consciousness, and she motioned for Phantom to continue, not sorry that her slingshot was broken anyways. "Go on."

"So anyways deys got me too an' loaded us up in some cart an' hauled us off ta da courthouse from watt Isa can tell, ya know, since Isa got knocked out too, with Jack in a separate car. He gets a whole other hearing just for himself, since he's da leada an' all, an' Race ain't too happy 'bout it. Says he shouldn't get special treatment, but dat ain't important. Denton an' Les an' David nova got caught though, since Denton made dis excuse for him bein' with da press, Mouth helpin' im' an' Les bein' a little kid, so dere still tryin' ta get da boys off- look, dere dey are!"

Mafia snapped her head around to see Racetrack, Spot, Mush, and Blink come stomping out, furious and saddened at the same time. "Race!" Phantom cried out, and the girl ran up to embrace her boyfriend. The gambler gave her a tight hug and held her a long time. "Youse ok?" he asked her. "Isa fine, just a little shaky," she replied, kissing him on the cheek before looking into his eyes. "But watt 'bout youse, ya look like hell!" She glanced around at the rest of the boys, all wearing very upset looks on their faces. "In fact, all 'o' youse do? Watt's da matter?"

"How'd youse get out so soon anyways?" Mafia added, standing up and looking over each of them. Blink pointed back at the courthouse. "Denton paid all our fines, five bucks a piece," he said sorrowfully. "But dat ain't it-"

"_Dat ain't it_ ain't da HALF 'o' it!" Spot spat angrily, glaring at the boy with the eye patch. "Jack- oh sorry- FRANCIS SULLIVAN- has been lyin' ta us all our lives! _Dat's _ it!"

Mafia's blood ran cold at the words Francis Sullivan. She double- took and stared at the King warily. "Francis Sullivan?" she repeated. "Are youse sure?" "No, we're makin' it all up," Mush replied sarcastically. "Yeah, dat's watt da Warden said, right dere in da courtroom. He told dis whole tale 'bout how Cowboy's real name is Francis Sullivan an' his parents ain't out west like he said an' dat dere really dead an' in jail-"

"An' da youse know watt he said 'bout it?" Spot asked furiously, hitting the wall with his fist. "Not a good-forsaking THING! He even flat out admitted it!" Race shot the Brooklynite a look. "Spot, lower youse voice for cryin' out loud. Ya gonna wake da neighborhood."

The King glared at him spitefully. "Isa don't car no more Race!" he retorted. "It don't matter anyways! Everything- he- told- us- was- a- lie!" He hit the wall once for every word he said, before Mafia caught the last one he threw in her hand effortlessly, staring him down coolly. "Stop it Spot," she ordered him. "It ain't gonna help matters if ya beat youseself up 'bout it." Spot glared at her up lowered his fist. "Alright, for youse," he said quietly but harshly. "But no one else."

Mush stared into the darkness around them. "Are da others ok?" he asked caringly. Phantom nodded. "Yeah, Witch, Lucky, Sarah, an' da rest 'o' da Brooklynites minus a couple stubborn ones who wouldn't back down off 'o' a fight made it out an' back home. Dere safe in da lodgin' houses until dere leada 'o' someone else deys know pick em' up." Mush sighed in relief at the thought of Witch not getting caught and sank onto the ground. "Did ya hear dat Blink?' he asked his best friend. "Da twins are safe!"

The boy nodded silently, staring at Mafia curiously. "Yeah, Isa knew deys would be," he replied absentmindedly. "Dere good at watt deys do, as ta say disappearin', but right now Isa curious. Maf, youse ain't said a word 'bout Jack's condition in da Refuge, ta a single one. He's ya friend; don't ya care?"

Racetrack too looked at the street girl leader, who refused to make eye contact with anyone and outlining her scar _Brooklynite _with her finger instead. "It's like youse knew watt ta expect," the gambler agreed. "Maf, youse wanna tell us something?"

The girl stayed strangely silent on the matter as the hard reality dawned on everyone there. No one spoke for a long time. "Youse knew?" Spot finally managed to choke out. "Youse knew 'bout im', 'bout everything he lied 'bout? An' youse nova told ANYONE DA TRUTH!"

"Well watt was Isa supposed ta do, tell everyone?" Mafia finally yelled at him. "Tell everyone dat Jack Kelly ain't Jack Kelly, dat his father's a criminal an' his mudda's lyin' six feet under da ground, 'cause dat ain't tellin' da truth, dat's betrayin' trust! Yeah, sure, Isa knew 'bout his family; Isa knew im' before we broke outta da Refuge, an' back den everyone knew 'bout everybody's life! Aft' we escaped he made me swear not ta tell anyone, which Isa thought was ok considerin' da hell we'd been through. We're friends; dat's watt friends do!"

Spot stamped his foot in frustration. "Youse couldn't even tell me, could youse? Because youse an' Jack_ just_ good friends right?"

"Oh, so dis is 'bout youse now is it?" Mafia snapped. "Isa hate ta break it ta youse, _Your Majesty_, but New York don't turn its lights off at night just 'cause you command it ta! Isa nova had ta tell ya anything Spot, an' quite frankly youse nova asked 'bout it, so no, Isa kept his secret because we're _just friends! _ He's like a brother ta me!"

"Sure he is," Spot growled, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, he is," Mafia confirmed, crossing her arms. The two stood there stared each other down coldly until Blink uncomfortably broke the silence. "Uh, guys, Isa ahte ta ruin dis lovely chat but we got ourselves a new problem; watt are we gonna do now? Jack's in da Refuge an' Denton's already called us ta meet at Tibby's tomorrow mornin', an' he didn't look too thrilled."

Phantom shrugged, put her head on Racetrack's shoulder and yawning. "Isa dunno 'bout youse all, but I'm headin' ta bed. We're all in for it now, an' all dem cards are on da table." Race grinned at his girlfriend. "Hey, youse made a poker joke!" he chuckled weakly. Phantom smiled slightly. "Isa do get em' occasionally."

"Yeah, we should head back too," Mush agreed. "C'mon Blink, let's get outta here before da bulls show up again an' try ta arrest us for trespassing on public property 'o' something fake like dat. Youse comin' Maf, maybe Spot? We gotta couple extra bunks-"

"Naw, Isa headed back ta Brooklyn tonight," Spot declined. "We'll pick it back up in da mornin', but right now Isa think Bowler's needin' ta be relieved of duty. Tell Ink an' Injun ta come on back ova da Bridge when youse see em'."

Mafia too shook her head. "No, I need to go too," she told the others. "There's some stuff I need to do." "Like watt?" Mush asked incredulously. "Ain't nothin' youse can get done tonight, c'mon back with us-"

"No Blink, there _is_ something I can do," Mafia replied coolly. "Goodnight." She tried leavin' again, but Spot caught her arm and yanked her back. "Oh no ya not," he snapped. "Youse ain't goin' off like dat agin, youse actually gonna stay somewhere at night. It's too dangerous-"

"Spot, let go 'o' my arm-"came her warning, but the King just ignored it, pulling her with him.

_Smack! _The Brooklynite was suddenly thrown away from Mafia by a powerful kick to the abdomen which thrust him so far back that its force surprised even Phantom, who'd known Mafia all her life. Spot stumbled back, doubled over, and looked up to see the street girl standing a couple feet away from everyone, fury rolling off her so bad that everyone carefully took a step away from her. "Isa won't go with anyone and ya can't make me," she growled, glaring at him with her stormy gray eyes swirling around like a hurricane. "And you especially," she addressed Spot. "Youse stay the heck away from me, youse hears? Isa won't want to see you or your face eva again, or you're dead before ya hit da ground."

And with that she was gone, disappeared into the shadows just like that. Phantom looked at Spot and pressed her lips into a firm line. "Youse might wanna go find err' Conlon," she advised. "Isa don't care watt Maf said; youse don't go aft' err' now she's gone for good, make no mistake 'bout dat."

The King stared off into the direction Mafia had gone, took a deep breath and took off after her, the darkness too swallowing him up and away from the newsies' view. "Youse think dere gonna be ok?" Race asked to no one in particular. Mush shook his head and leaned up against a lamppost, following suit as everyone else stared off into the night.

"I dunno Race," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and silently praying a prayer of safety for both teenagers. "I really hope so. Dere da last chance each other has."

**I AM SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OO SOOOOOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG! I was an idiot and started up another story after watching THE HOBBIT and the LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY, which was stupid, and I wrote five chapters without thinking, but I'm back now and promise I will never, ever never ever do something like double dipping on stories ever again! **

**Anyhow, please review even if you're mad at me, I beg your forgiveness! If any of you beautiful readers have hearts review and I promise I'll finish this one up ASAP.**

**OC's Legally Owned Until Proven Otherwise,**

**-rellimmes **


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright, my other story The 10****th**** Companion is officially on hiatus until I can finish up this one, so while I'm busy with Newsies you can check that one out. (It's for Lord of the Rings fans, especially if you like Legolas, so if you aren't and/or don't I'm not judging) Shout out to God'sgirlforever (love your penname BTW) who commented on both my unfinished stories, I heart you so much! On that happy note let's see how our beloved (and slightly arrogant) King of Brooklyn's doing…**

_Manhattan Docks, 1899_

Mafia finally reached her chosen destination of comfort and stopped just short of the dock entrance and gripped the railing tight, looking out over the water as crocodile tears dripped down her cheeks. Everything was falling apart now; her newsie family, the strike, her future, even the prospect of making up with Spot was ruined. _I was so stupid, _she thought, trying to keep herself composed even though no one was there to see her cry. _Why did I say that, what was I thinking? I can't take that back now._ The girl stared out over the harbor, wanting to go back and beg forgiveness but knowing full well she couldn't. She was too proud to do that anyways…

The strike as far as she was concerned was over. Jack was caught, no bail, and probably being threatened with the happenings of his friends if he didn't cooperate with Pulitzer. Mafia knew Jack better than almost anyone; if someone he cared about was in danger, especially like this, then he would do anything to make sure they stayed safe- even turn scab like Pulitzer probably wanted. He'd be let out the next day with all the other scabs, sent to the Distribution Center to buy papers and put on display like an exhibit in a museum for all the striking newsies to see. He'd be a turncoat, and there was nothing she could do or say that would change their minds, not even her own girls.

Mafia always knew her family, her street girl family that is, would disburse sooner or later. They'd meet a guy or get set up with a newsie borough sooner or later and then they'd be gone, just like that. Sure, they could stay in touch, but they would never be as close as they once were. Even Daisy would drift away, and there would be only Mafia left, on her own and the only one of them who had to watch out for Crypt. She'd be alone then, with no one to watch her back and all the more vulnerable. She'd mostly likely get killed if she didn't skip town or do something about her position then.

_Crypt. _He was still out there, even after the rally, probably even sat in on one of the hearings out of sight just to spite the newsies. The former leader could possibly eve be watching her right then, although since he hadn't shown his face by now Mafia doubted he was. He'd have already either killed her or beaten her within an inch of her life, just like last time.

_Just a little reminder as ta who's in charge 'round here Powell, he whispered as he disappeared into the boy's bunkroom. Now everyone knows who youse __really__ belong to._

Mafia shuddered as she looked down at her arm, where even as the streets were dark you could make out the word _Brooklynite _was clearly carved out of her flesh. If you pressed just the right point of the y cold pricks would still shoot up her arm, and if you pressed down hard enough the scar would burn almost as badly as it did the day it was first carved. It had been a miracle Spot hadn't seen it when he'd carried her up and down the stairs, and even more so that Injun had taken it upon himself not to say anything to him. Injun knew Mafia had her secrets, and he was always more than willing to put in a good word for her. That was why they why such good friends, she thought…

The mere thought of Spot Conlon made Mafia clench her hands on the rails all over again, he made her so furious. All cognitions of her regretting her words to him flew out the window, and it dawned upon her that he was the one who'd originally started up the argument that had caused her to cut off ties with the King in the first place. He was the reason she was here now- and she blamed it all on him. Mafia was now in concrete affirmation that she never wanted to see Spot Conlon ever again, no matter if he had ever sided with her against Crypt or not.

There was only one thing to do now; she'd leave New York, like she'd planned on doing to begin with. If she was gone, Mafia reckoned, Crypt would stop terrorizing all the New York and focus on just Brooklyn, which was enough in Conlon's jurisdiction to have him deal with it on his own. He didn't need her, she didn't need him, and that was all it took. Mafia thought about her friends in Manhattan; they would worry, wouldn't they? And Medda, they'd just started up her job at the Vaudeville-

_No, _she immediately decided. _They'll get along just fine. Sure, they'll be sad for a bit, but I'll leave them a farewell letter and problem's solved._

But where would she go, after New York? She'd lived there all her life, grown up on its streets, memorized its maps and broken down its blocks of life and now that she was starting over she would need a new destination. But where? Philadelphia was out of the question; she didn't have nearly enough people and connections to get her _that_ far away. Atlanta was too down south for her _and _too expensive to reach, not to mention it didn't have nearly as many newsies she could befriend that would willingly take her in. Mafia debated some more before deciding on New Jersey, right across the river. No one would look that close to home and expect to find her- not even Spot.

"Mafia!"

The street girl instantly cringed and covered her ears, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. _Oh, now you're in for it Mia, _she scolded herself. _You're still so in love with him you're starting to imagine his voice everywhere you go. Stop it, keep out of my head! _But the sound of Spot Conlon's voice was still getting through, and what was even worse, it was growing louder. "Shut up!" she shouted out loud, uncovering her ears to hit at the nearest wall. "Go away, Isa don't want youse here!"

"Den at least hears me out." The street girl immediately snapped her head around to see Spot, in the flesh, emerge from the shadows with a forlorn look on his face. "Please Maf," he pleaded, a desperate sort of look brimming his ocean blue eyes. "Den youse can go an' I'll be gone. Just let me speak ta ya- please."

Mafia took a deep, shaky breath, considering her options. She could run away now and he wouldn't follow her; he wasn't stupid enough to do _that._ Maybe she would pretend to listen for a while, and then leave when it got bad. _Or, _her nagger suggested _you could always hear him out. You're not blind Mia; you know what he wants. He's practically begging for your forgiveness. _

For once Mafia listened to the small irritating voice inside her head. She crossed her arms and glared at the King, hard and cold as the day she'd first reencountered him in Central Park. "Youse got five minutes," she growled. "Den youse scram." She regretted saying this too, but she needed to stay strong if she wanted to get out of this mess clean. Spot took a deep breath, staring into her steely gray eyes without any sign of weakness, matching her inner strength with his.

"Why'd ya run?"

"Isa don't gotta answer ta youse."

"Ya don't, but I'd like ta know."

"Well too bad, ya ain't."

"Why not?"

That one question stopped Mafia dead on. Why wouldn't she, exactly? It wasn't like it was a huge secret, that she was in love with him. Most people suspected, some even knew for sure- but if Conlon ever considered it he never let on. Mafia's mind flitted back to when Witch and Lucky had shown her the piece of paper they'd stolen from Spot over a week ago; a beautiful portrait of her kept in his back pocket at all times the twins had reckoned. Hadn't she known then, if he returned her feelings or not? She blinked back hot tears, one escaping and sliding down her face. "I- I don't know," she admitted, trembling slightly. "I just- I don't know. You were screaming at me, yelling at me for something completely out of my control… what other choice did I have?"

Spot took a step forwards, towards her, but Mafia didn't back away this time. "You coulda told me ta shut you Maf," he quietly replied, quite remorsefully at that. "I woulda stopped. Every single Brooklynite listens ta youse, no matter watt ya say- why shouldn't I?" Mafia felt anger build up inside her again, a painful memory returning faster than lightning…

_Brooklyn LH, 1898_

Crypt was gone, Spot was leader, and everyone was celebrating, if not by taking the night off to have a drink by staying out way later than they would usually have. It was the dawn of a new era, a beautiful moment in the time of the Brooklyn newsies. But in the midst of the warm spring night there was still strife.

"Isa told youse Spot, he won't stay gone forever!" Mafia was arguing, slamming her fist on the table and not caring who heard her. "He's not da kind 'o' person ta accept defeat; he'll be back."

"No, he won't!" The new King retorted, glaring at the newsgirl. "Youse don't know Crypt like Isa do, he's a coward!" "An' he's also stubborn as a mule!" Mafia replied just as fiercely. "Look, as long as he's still got allies here we're weak. We need ta make sure he doesn't have da chance ta get back ta Brooklyn an' take ova again."

Spot glared furiously at her. "Youse sayin' Isa weak?' he asked dangerously. Mafia narrowed her eyes; she knew she had him. "Maybe Isa am," she replied coldly.

The King swore under his breath and turned away to regain his cool, and then turned back to Mafia again, under control but still angry. "Isa gonna let dat slide because we're friends-"he began.

"Den youse weak!" Mafia snapped. "First rule as leader; ya don't let anything go without a fight, especially watt Isa just said. If youse let dat little thing pass by den youse gonna let mistakes go an' not pay any attention ta da details! Crypt's crafty, an' he's gonna be watchin' for dat; if he finds a limp King as leader 'o' Brooklyn den da war's already ova!"

The newsie stamped his foot on the ground furiously. "Ya really tryin' ta push me buttons ain't ya Maf?" he growled. The newsgirl smirked coldly and straightened up. "So youse finally catch on, huh? Good work Sherlock." Spot clenched his fists. "Now looks here-"

"No, _youse _look here!" Mafia interrupted, voice threatening and dripping with anger. "I'm gone, alright? I'm done, an' so are da giorls. Isa ain't gonna stay here an' watch as some pathetic wanna-be King lets my home slip through his fingers like sand. Don't expect ta find us anywhere near dis hellhole again." And she stormed out of the room.

"Maf, wai-"those were the last words she heard from Spot Conlon that year, cut short by the slamming of the lodging house door.

_Manhattan docks, present day, 1899_

Mafia could still hear the final crack over of the door over a year later, and here they were again, fighting. "I know why," she snarled suddenly, surprised by her own voice laced with empathy. "Because if youse didn't do it den why should ya do it now?" Spot's face whitened as realization sank in. "Youse still remember dat?" he whispered, barely audible in the dark night. "Aft' a whole year-"

"'O' course Isa do, it was da last time we eva spoke until now!" Mafia snapped. "Don't think dat for a moment Isa forgave youse for lettin' us go dat easily, never! A good leader woulda followed me outta dat building an' dragged me back, nova let anyone do something as utterly _stupid _as dat. It was a test spot, an' youse failed."

"Isa nova looked looking aft' youse was gone!" Spot shouted back at her, forgetting that he was supposed to be calmer now. "Oh, don't youse dare lie ta me Spot Conlon, youse honestly think Isa don't know?" Mafia yelled back. All of a sudden the portrait was in her hands and she threw at his feet, hating it with every fiber of her being. Spot cautiously bent down and stood up with it open, not taking his eyes off of her before taking one glance at it and looking back up at her dangerously. "Where did youse get dis?" he whispered lowly.

Mafia shook her head. She wouldn't give up Witch and Lucky, not now. "Dat ain't important Spot," she growled. "Dat point is, youse blew it. I'm done with youse." She felt her voice crack and tears start to come on again, and she blinked them back desperately. "I- I- Spot, dere was a time I thought- dat Isa thought we had a chance, a real chance at something- b- but dat's ova now, an' I'm not goin' back j-just because youse ask me to."

She couldn't take it anymore. Time was up; she had to leave right now or she never would. But for some reason her legs just _refused _to move! Mafia held back her tears as best she could, but they were bound to spill over her eyelids at any given moment. Spot, with the folded portrait still in his hand, stepped closer towards her, and against her initial will Mafia stayed where she was. He was too close, much too close, they were practically inches apart-

"Youse loved me?" he whispered, almost disbelievingly if he hadn't heard it himself. "All dis time, an' youse nova said nothin'?"

"Well watt was Isa supposed ta do?" Mafia murmured, so softly no one but the two of them could hear her. "Tell da whole world? Dere were too many courses on our plates for something like dat, an' even aft' Crypt left- Isa couldn't risk it, not with my family's lives on da line. You were a secret I was gonna take ta da grave."

The King's eye searched hers, wanting to find something, anything, and found what he was looking for. "Youse remember dat night, don't youse?" he finally said, realization dawning upon his face. "When Crypt attacked youse; youse was conscious dat whole time. Youse know dat he almost killed youse, dat Isa found ya, dat Injun patched ya up- watt Isa said-"He stared at her desperately. "Youse nova said a word."

Mafia let a single tear slide down her cheek. She stared right back at him with the look of pain and hurt carved in her gray statuette eyes. "Watt was Isa supposed ta say?"

The two Brooklynites stared at each other in silence, just inches apart. Blue eyes boring down into gray, gray eyes crumbling under blue- it was a moment that scared both of them to death, to each the prospect of their worst fears. Mafia had the fleeting thought of walking away, from this one last time, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Spot was still looking directly at her, but the mysterious gleam in his eyes was unrecognizable. She'd never seen anything like it before-

"Oh, watt da heck." Spot grabbed Mafia by the arms and kissed her. The girl immediately went rigid, tense and frozen in place with shock. Chills ran marathons down her back, and slowly Mafia felt her legs beneath her begin to give way, she was so terrified. _No, no, this can't be happening, _she thought desperately. _Not now, what am I doing? _ Her senses suddenly returned and Mafia pushed the newsboy away, shocked and completely overwhelmed.

"Watt- was- dat?" she demanded slowly, her voice not as severely tone as before but stunned nevertheless. Sot frowned emotionlessly and looked her straight in the eyes with a saddened glint shining through his eyes. "Well Isa guess we'll nova know, will we?" He started to walk away, but at the last second- she never understood why she did it- Mafia reached out and grasped his arm tightly, preventing the boy from going anywhere. "Watt?" Conlon spat at the ground, glaring at her. "Watt da youse want now, Powell?"

Mafia looked directly at him, a sort of bleakness crossing her face, and for the first time she wasn't the strong hardened street rat that Spot knew. She had the look of a completely different person- she was almost like a very, very small, venerable little girl, trapped and frightened. "I'd like you ta know, Spot," she breathed quietly, her steely gray eyes softened and thin. "I would love you- if only I could." Then she released hold of Spot's arm and melted into the darkness, leaving the King of Brooklyn standing next to the Manhattan docks, alone, wondering where she could have possibly gone and why he let her go again.

If he'd been paying attention he would have noticed a dark, slinky shadow whist away from sight. It had been watching them the whole time.

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

Witch and Lucky rushed into the lodging house all excited, out of breath, nearly exhausted and bursting with news. "We found err'!" Witch gasped excitedly, whipping around to find Phantom, who'd sent the twins out in the first place. "We found Mafia! She's still in 'Hattan, comin' back here right now!"

Racetrack, who'd been sitting anxiously next to his girl the entire night, stood up and threw his hands in the air in relief. "Oh, thank Mother Mary!" he breathed in solace. "Is she ok?" "'O' course she's ok, she's Mafia Powell," Kid Blink chuckled. "Now all we need is Dave ta come back here with Jack an' we'll be golden!"

Lucky grinned and pecked her boyfriend on the cheek. "You are such the dreamer Blink," she teased him. Mush elbowed his best friend in the arm. "Yeah Blink a real _dreamer!" _he joked, mimicking Lucky's voice. Everyone laughed, and Daisy, who was sitting with Snipeshooter and Boots (Les and Sarah had already gone home) playing marbles, looked up and stared at Phantom. "When's Mafia gonna be home?' she asked, her baby blue eyes watering. "She has ta be back in time for bed." Skittery, who was standing off to the side in unhappy silence (still mad at Jack for lying to the newsies), was touched by the little girl's innocence and waved her and her friends over. "She'll be back soon kid," he promised. "Don't youse worry 'bout her. Mafia's a big giorl; she can take care 'o' herself. Tell youse what; Isa go an' take youse an' Boots an' 'Shooter upstairs an' Maf will be in shortly ta say goodnight, how 'bout dat?"

Daisy's smile broadened and she quickly grabbed her friends before bounding upstairs to the younger newsie's room, where she'd taken up residence during the strike instead of the regular girl's room. Everyone stared at Skittery in shock, remembering the boy's reputation for being so gum and sarcastic (the opposite of kind and sympathetic in Racetrack's account), but the newsie just shrugged and headed up the stairs. Once he was gone Race nearly gagged.

"Watt was dat?" he wheezed, nearly choking. "Skittery's da MAYOR 'o' Glum an' Dumb Town; watt got into im'?"

Mush frowned and looked at the stairs to which the four had ascended moments before. "It's real complicated, Isa don't think he'd rather me say-""Oh c'mon Mush, please?" Witch pleaded, batting her eyes at him while the others rolled theirs. Mush sighed but resigned to do as asked. "Fine, but dis goes no further, got it?" he ordered. "Skitts told me in all confidentially-like. It goes like dis; years ago, before he was a newsie Skittery had a little brudda. Deys was da best 'o' friends, an' Skitts had such a soft spot for da little guy. Den, like most newsies, dere parents died an' dey got sent off ta live with relatives in da Bronx. One day while da two 'o' dem were out an' a carriage ran his brudda ova; no one saw it comin' an' it was too late when da kid reached da hospital. Skittery still blames himself, but even aft' he ran off ta be a newsie he still had a heart for little kids, like his brudda. Dat's why he ain't so mean ta em'. He reckons he's compensatin' himself for his death."

"Aw, dat's so tragic," Cloud cooed. "Who woulda thought…"

But her memo was cut short by the sound of the lodging house door opening and Mafia slinking in, a horrible combination of shock and tearfulness etched across her face like the engraving on a tombstone. Everyone immediately turned to watch the street girl slump into a nearby seat and just sit there, not moving an inch with a gob-smacked look on her face.

"Maf, youse back!" Phantom sighed with relief, getting up to embrace her friend. "We were so worried!" "Yeah, she was freakin' out big time aft' youse disappeared," Race snickered, earning him an elbow into the side from his girl. But Mafia just stared straight ahead, and her bottom lip quivered once. "Watt happened?" she finally murmured, blinking for the first time. "Watt did Isa do?"

Cloud sighed, setting down her dime novel and look at Mafia again. "Dat's watt we was hopin' youse tell us Maf," she told her. "Now spill, where ya been?" But Mafia just sat there, struck dumb for perhaps the first time in her life, so everyone turned to Witch and Lucky. "Well?" Mush asked. "Youse found err', youse saw da whole thing. Watt happened dat caused one 'o' da toughest newsies in Brooklyn ta crack?"

Witch shook her head no, but Lucky squirmed like she knew something. "Watt Lucks?" Blink pushed. "Youse saw _something_." Lucky opened her mouth to speak, but Mafia snapped out of her daze and beat her to it. "He kissed me," she whispered, loud enough for all to hear. "Da little son 'o' a jack _kissed_ me."

Phantom's jaw dropped, as did everyone else, and she leaned in closer. "Watt did youse say?" she asked bewilderedly. "Spot Conlon kissed youse?" Mafia nodded, recovering fully from her shock and starting to get mad. "Yeah," she said, shaking her head disbelievingly. "He did. Why did he do it?"

Everyone groaned and Cloud smacked her leader in the arm with her dime book. "Oh, ain't it _obvious_?" she moaned. "Youse is hopeless Mafia, utterly an' officially _hopeless_ when it comes ta dese things; Isa gonna have ta spell dis out ain't I? He- is- in- love- with- you! Always was, always will be!"

Mafia blinked slowly and looked at her friend. "What da youse mean?"

Mush, who everyone assumed to be an expert on such things due to his nickname, rolled his eyes and fanned himself with his cap. "Aw Maf, why haven't youse noticed yet? Isa don't pretend ta know everything 'bout Spot Conlon, but anyone can tell when something ain't right with im'. We had no idea he had a thing for ya until Jack mentioned youse lived in Brooklyn an' came ta visit with some 'o' da other Brooklynites later on. Den it was clear as day."

"He's loved youse eva since ya came ta da lodging house Isa heard," Witch added. "Youse shoulda seen da way he would look at ya when youse walked by, every time, every day for years- an' Isa do mean YEARS- it was like youse was everything ta im'. Isa talked with Sketch, da kid who drew ya picture for im' aft' we left dat Conlon had; he said Spot nova stopped lookin' for ya aft' we disappeared. But 'o' course, when youse don't wanna be found dere ain't nothin' anyone can do-"she let her voice trailed off, and realization dawned upon Mafia. She ran her hand through her short blonde hair and shuddered. "Isa really screwed up, did I?" she asked.

Racetrack started to say something, but Phantom clamped her hand over his mouth before he could say anything. "Dere's still time ta make it right Maf," she told her friend. "If he really cares 'bout ya, which Isa sure he does, den he'll be back. Spot's a lot 'o' things, but for one thing he ain't stupid. Dat's watt Jack says at least, Isa ain't so sure-"

"Speakin' 'o' which, where is David an' Cowboy?" Blink asked, getting up to peer out the window and down the street. "Dey should be back by now, we was gonna spring im' out before he went into dat carriage. Dave went aft' im', told us all ta stay behind here an' wait."

Mafia's ears perked up as soon as she heard Jack's name. "Youse let David go aft' im' alone?" she asked, glad to be off the topic of her personal life. "Dat ain't da smartest plan guys; Davey ain't exactly professional when it comes ta New York's nightlife." Racetrack snorted. "It ain't like we asked im' ta," he scoffed. "He just went off an' left us, nothin' we could do. He'll be back soon though, he's gotta family ta support too ya know."

Phantom snickered. "Youse call our strikin' supportin' families? Race, Isa think ya need a little more sleep tonight. From watt Sarah told me earlier she's been da one makin' a livin' while da boys are runnin' with us. Sellin' paper-made dolls ta little kids or something-" "Dolls?" Blink repeated, interrupting her. "Who in dere right mind plays with dolls?"

"Little girls Blink," Cloud clicked disapprovingly. "All women at some point in dere lives have played with dolls, an' someone had ta sell dem ta em'." Kid Blink rolled his eyes, not seeing what her point was and turned back to the rest of the group. "Watt's takin' dat kid so long, even Pulitzer's place ain't dat far away-"

"I'm right here." Everyone pivoted around and Cloud sprang out of her chair to envelope David in a hug, who'd just come in through the front door. "Don't take so long on anything eva again!" she scolded her boyfriend. "Youse had us worried sick!" David promised he wouldn't and sat down next to her on the couch, sadness filling his eyes. "Where's Jack?" Maia asked, concerned about her friend. "Youse went aft' im' didn't ya?"

The Jacobs sibling shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "He's not coming," he explained to the shocked group of newsies. "I tried to talk him out of it… but he wouldn't come. He said something about jail and me not understanding anything about the situation. He went back to the Refuge, by choice."

Mafia's jaw dropped and she slammed her fist against the wall. "Why'd he do dat?" she demanded angrily. "When we broke out years ago he said he was nova goin' back, not eva, an' youse sayin' he returned BY CHOICE? Anyone else see watt's wrong with dat picture?" Mush shrugged. "He's Jack Kelly, da Cowboy 'o' New York City. He has his reasons."

"Yeah, but he ain't just Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly anymore, is he?" Racetrack spat angrily. "He's _Francis Sullivan_, a liar an' little thief!" Mafia whipped around and slapped the gambler straight across his face, leaving a huge rd mark and drawing blood out of the corner of his mouth. "Don't youse eva say anything bad 'bout im', youse hear me Antony Higgins?" she snapped. "Youse don't have any idea watt he's done for da newsies, or even why he had ta lie in da first place!"

"Well den maybe youse can elaborate den!" Race retorted. "Youse known Cowboy longer den us, ya seem ta know an' awful lot more 'bout im' den we eva did, so spill!" He would have said more, but Phantom put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him back into his seat. "She's gotta point Race," she muttered softly. "But Isa agree; Maf, da youse know something we don't?"

_Oh, Isa know a lot 'o' things youse don't, _Mafia thought to herself, feeling her mind being sucked back into another reverie-

_Alleyways of Manhattan near House of Refuge, 1891_

A small, lithe girl with long blonde hair and a taller boy in a cowboy hat scampered down the dark streets of Manhattan, dodging in and out of the lights and pulling each other into alleyways when the need stood. When they'd gone far enough (at least for them) the boy stopped and looked back at the looming, scary but brightly lit jailhouse two blocks away, a fierce glint in his eye. The girl stooped too, a few steps ahead, backtracked and tried to pull him along.

"C'mon Francis!" she hissed, grabbing his arm and tying to get her friend moving again. "If we don't hurry the bulls 'o' catch us, then we go back but for even longer!"

"Hold on a minute Mia, Isa watchin' something," the boy who would soon become Cowboy replied, eyes still on the house. "It'll only take a minute. We'll be gone before ya know it. Isa ain't nova goin' back dere, not eva."

Mia frowned but stayed with her friend, crossing her arms in an annoyed manner. "We'll be caught before I know it," she muttered, correcting her partner in crime. "What do you think you'll see if we stay?" Francis shrugged, keeping his eye on the Refuge. "Snyder will be out in a minute, rantin' an' ravin' 'bout catchin' me again an' puttin' me right back into prison. Dis will be da third time he'll have done it, an' Isa wanna watch. Nova did da first two times-"

"Because youse would always got caught da next day an' ya knew it," Mia finished.

Suddenly a balding, red faced chubby man in a black suit came bounding out of the Refuge, screaming "I'll get you Sullivan and you too Antoine, even if it's the last thing I do!" He kept up his rave for a good five minutes before Jack finally decided that the humor had worn off and wanted to leave. This was fine by his friend, and the two disappeared into the night and made tracks towards the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, where most street rats lived. They stood outside the dark building, hesitant to go in.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do Francis?" Mia asked, shifted in her spot uncomfortably. "We can always live as pick pockets, we're both pretty good-"

"But Isa wanna make a livin' where Isa don't gotta be on da run 24/7 Mia," the boy told her, holding his cowboy hat in his hands. "It won't be nearly as much as we did freelancin', but it'll be honest an' not as dangerous. An' we can count on each other, an' we nova could when we was pickin' pockets alone." Mia snorted. "We didn't even know each other until we met inside the Refuge, remember?" she inquired. Francis laughed shortly, smiling happily for the first time that evening. "Oh yeah! Isa guess we've been friends so long it feels like we known each other forever."

Mia chuckled in reply but said nothing, only watched as her friend went inside the LH. He stopped once he realized she wasn't alongside him. "Ain't youse comin' Mia?" he asked concerned. "Youse ok?" The girl shook her head and pointed towards the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge. "I'm sorry Jack, Isa ain't stayin' in 'Hattan," she told him. "I lived in Kings County before I lived here, and now I'm going back."

"But da Brooklynites, dere downright scary!" Francis started to object "No place for a giorl-"then he rolled his eyes at his own comment. "But den again youse don't fight like one do ya?" He smiled weakly. "Just be sure ta come back by eva so often, please?" Mia grinned and saluted him, their own way of saying hello, goodbye and promising. "I promise Francis," she said. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we sure are." Mia started down the street, but Francis's voice called her back again. "Wait Mia!" he shouted after her. "Youse forgot ta change ya voice! Dem in Brooklyn; dey'll know watt ya are, once dey recognize youse accent. Den it won't matter if youse a giorl; dey'll soak ya."

The new fugitive laughed and waved it off, adjusting her voice. It was a talent of hers. "How's dis?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Francis gave her thumbs up. "Great!" "Thanks, bye Sullivan!" Francis shook his head. "It's Jack now, remember? We came up with new names, just in case; I'm Jack Kelly, you're just, well, you."

Mia nodded, knowing that her name hadn't been put into the system yet and with her escape from the Refuge it never would. "Isa now, but youse always gonna be Francis Sullivan ta me!" she said chipperly, right before disappearing down the lane one final time. "Good-bye!"

"Bye!"

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

Mafia snapped back to reality and nodded. "He's not da kind 'o' person ta just give himself up like dat guys; Mush's right, he has his reasons. He'll be back as soon as he can, Isa can guarantee dat, an' right now Isa can't guarantee much." Everyone nodded in agreement, even Racetrack, who forgave Mafia for hitting him and apologized for making a cheap shot at Jack. The street girl returned the gesture, talked some more with the gang before David announced he had to leave. Cloud walked him to the door, kissed him on the cheek and told him she'd see him in the morning before looking at the rest f the girls and leading them up the stairs.

"We'll be ok, won't we?" she asked no one in particular. Witch nodded, but she looked grim. Her twin was the same way. "We can get by," Lucky agreed. "We're a family." Mafia said nothing, too absorbed in her own thoughts to reply, and checked in on a sleeping Daisy in the younger's room (she didn't ask why Skittery was there) before going to sleep herself. They had a long day ahead of them, and Mafia had a felling it wouldn't be pleasant.

**Alright, longest chapter yet! Unlucky number 13 too, make it lucky by reviewing! Thanks you guys!  
**

**-rellimmes**


	14. Chapter 14

**Alright people, 50 reviews! Thank you and GOODNIGHT! Not really, I'm still writing the other chapters. We're almost finished though, so hold on, it's about to get very interesting!**

_Manhattan to Brooklyn, 1899_

Mafia woke up early and slipped out of the lodging house before anyone else could wake, anxious and dead set on returning to Manhattan before all the newsies were up and realized she was gone. She was going to Brooklyn, not to see Spot but a certain other two people. She had to go see Ink ad Ink about a boat…

As you very well know, it takes a long time to cross the Brooklyn Bridge, and for even Mafia Powell it's difficult to avoid the numerous Brooklyn birds staking it out. But she'd trained the four of them, and unless they'd grown completely independent over the year she'd been gone (which she doubted, since they were only kids) they wouldn't say anything until they heard her out. Once Mia got to the center of the bridge, at the dividing point between the two boroughs, she stopped and called out into the silence "Hatter, Shark, Hotshot, Dusty! Get ya lousy bums out here!"

There was silence, then immediately after four small boys appeared in front of her, looking their trainer up and down warily. "So da boss finally decides ta show err' face 'round here again, eh Maf?" Hatter, their leader, grinned, spit shaking his friend and the bird's former mentor. "Where youse been?" Mafia smiled coolly and glanced around to make sure no one was anywhere near enough to hear their conversation. "Around. How youse gettin' along?"

Dusty shrugged, wiping a smear of dirt from his face. "Ok Isa guess. Ain't da same without youse an' da giorls 'round. Life just got interestin' now dat ya back though; da guys won't believe it when we say Mafia Powell's back in town!"

Mafia shifted around uncomfortable, which caught Shark's attention. "Actually, Isa called youse all up 'cause 'o' dat. Youse can't tell anyone I'm here." Ink's little brother frowned and looked her up and down warily. "But Maf, youse love da guys! Sheesh, if youse don't want us ta tell anyone it must be serious. Watt did ya get into now?" "Yeah Maf," Hatter added. "Why shouldn't we tell Spot ya comin'? We work for im', not youse."

The street rat glared at him. "Because one, Isa gonna soak ya if ya do, two, Spot's gonna kill me if he sees me 'round here an' three 'cause it's between me, Ink an' Injun. Plus if Isa remember correctly youse owe me a favor for draggin' ya outta dat mess with Queens, Hatter." The head birds looked down, embarrassed, and nodded. "Go ahead, we wasn't gonna squeal anyways. Ya family Maf; its watt families do." Mafia smiled and ruffled the guy's hair before setting off. "Isa know," she replied. "But it feels good ta know Isa still got allies dat ain't afraid 'o' Conlon. If he asks ya watt youse saw today keep mum, alright?"

Hotshot nodded. "Our lips are sealed Maf. Ink an' Injun should be up on da roof, dey'll see ya comin'."

Thanking the boys, Mafia slinked off into the mist that engulfed the Bridge at the moment and quickly made her way towards the LH. She climbed up the fire escape and found the Lodging house's doctor and Brooklyn's second sitting there talking, up ceased once they found she was there.

"Heya Maf," Ink greeted her. "We saw ya comin' across da Bridge. Isa assumed youse don't wanna see Spot?" _Word travel's fast, _Mafia thought, and she shook her head. "No, Isa here ta see youse two actually."

Injun smiled friendly and motioned for her to come sit over by them. "An' how can we assist da lovely Mafia Powell dis mornin'? Problems in 'Hattan?" Mafia chuckled for a moment, and then turned serious. "Naw, we're all good, minus Jack's little situation an' all. But dat ain't why I'm here." She took a deep breath. "Da you guys know anyone in Hoboken?"

Ink stared at her, as did Injun. "Hoboken, as in Hoboken, New Jersey? Not dat Isa aware of. Maybe a couple guy's dat left da LH aft' deys grew tired 'o' bein' newsies, but as far as solid knowledge goes Isa stumped. Injun, youse know anyone?" To Mafia's surprise the medicine newsie nodded, slowly and warily but thoughtful nevertheless. "Actually, Isa gotta cousin who lives right on da river line, ova by da docks. Youse can see New York from dere, he says. Why youse askin'?"

Mafia shrugged nonchalantly, not answering the question. "Watt 'bout newsies, does Jersey have dem too?" "Well yeah, most big cities do, 'specially port towns. Isa even heard a story 'bout Savannah, Georgia havin' a couple lodging houses down dere. Maf, youse scarin' me, why da sudden interest?"

"No reason," the girl quickly countered. "Just makin' conversation-"

"Oh no youse ain't!" Ink argued. "Youse thinkin' 'bout something, ya always are. Watts eatin' youse?" Mafia looked at them both grouchily. "It ain't nothin', let me off already!" she tried to laugh it off, but Injun's gentle but firm hand on her shoulder silenced her. "Mafia, we've been keepin' each other's secrets for years," he reminded her. "We was all sellin' partners before Crypt ova threw Flyer, remember? If anything, ya can trust us." Ink nodded in agreement, and Mafia sighed. "Aright, but youse can't tell anyone, not even da giorls in Manhattan."

"We're open ears an' closed mouths Maf, now shoot."

The street girl ran her hand through her short pixie cut hair and stared off into the distance. "Ya see, Isa got ta thinkin' da other day, an' aft' all dis is ova- ya know, with Crypt an' da strike an' Spot an' all- Isa ain't gonna have a decent place ta go. Brooklyn's outta da question, Isa don't wanna stay in 'Hattan (although I'd be welcome ta stay Isa guess) an' findin' a decent job aft' da strike we're havin' gonna be impossible. Isa need some place ta start ova, get a fresh start, ya know? Jersey's just as good a place as any I reckoned."

Injun frowned thoughtfully. "Isa see youse point. I'll send word ova ta Utah, me cousin. He's always welcomin' guys from New York ova ta his LH, he'd be glad ta have ya. But seriously though, ya really thinkin' 'bout leavin' for good?"

"Not for good," Mafia corrected. "Just until all dis dies down for now, but it could turn permanent if something happened. All Isa know is Isa can't stay here no more." Ink's expression grew saddened. "Well, we'll miss ya Maf. Send letters, alright?" Mafia laughed, ruffling her friend's hair. "Hey, Isa ain't leavin' yet!" she chuckled. "Youse stuck with me a while longer. But yeah, we'll still be friends, right Injun?"

The Native American boy nodded in affirmative. "Right."

The trio talked for a while longer about Mafia's plans, but after a while the girl decided she needed to get back to Manhattan. They said their good-byes and Mafia took off, being wary of Spot and Crypt at the same time (very hard to do in her opinion) as she went. It took her a while to get back to the Distribution Center.

_Manhattan Distribution Center, 1899_

When she did finally get there the place was a riot.

Jack, whom she hadn't seen since the night before, was forced to stand outside with scab clothing and papers in his hand. It confirmed Mafia's worst fears; Jack had turned scab at Pulitzer's threat to hurt them, but no one in the crowd seemed to know that, or if they did they didn't care. All the newsboys that had heard her speech about scabs last night had forgotten it, and were now busy screaming and yelling at Jack so violently and profusely that all the level headed ones had to pull them back. David was up arguing with Cowboy now, and by the looks of it the turnout wasn't good. Although she tried to make out what they were saying, she could not because of the noise coming from the crowd and her position in the back.

Soon a thick boy had moved right in front of Mafia, making it impossible for her to see anything, but the next thing she knew Jack was being dragged out of view of the roaring crowd and the rest of the boys from Manhattan were huddled together talking. Mafia found herself amongst them, nearest to Mush. The girls seemed to have slept in.

"He's just foolin' 'em... so he can spy on them or something..." Les kept on trying to say with certainty. "That's it. He's spyin' on 'em. He's gotta be." Racetrack just ruffled the kid's hair halfheartedly. "Sure he is kid," the gambler muttered. "Sure he is."

Kid Blink meanwhile was sitting up against a bench next to the group, looking frustrated and thinking hard. "Somebody's gotta go talk with im'," he decided, announcing it to the rest of them. "He's gotta have a heart 'o' something, he'll listen ta at least one 'o' us!" "Sure he will Blink," David huffed, looking very angry after his fight with Jack. "He's too stubborn and conceited to care about any of us anymore."

"Don't say dat Davey, Jack's got his reasons," Mush reasoned, but even he looked down. "He'll be back… right?" Spot, who'd been there all along (Mafia inched away from his line of sight once she realized this), laughed harshly and kicked at a rock lying close by, replying sarcastically. "Oh yeah Mush, Cowboy's gonna be back. He'll _definitely_ rejoin now dat he's got money an' a suit-"

"Spot, gripin' 'bout it ain't gonna change nothing!" Race snapped. "Now, Isa like Blink's idea. We find someone dat Jack won't run away from if deys show up an' he'll talk with em' if dey want. Dat way we now watts up an' watt our next move should be." "But who'd take on something like that?" David asked dully. "I mean, the girls won't go anywhere near him now, maybe Sarah, but I'm not dragging her into this. She's tough, maybe not street-wise but more emotionally than all of us plus she could pack a wallop if she wanted to, but it's not her fight and ever since Les and I went on strike she's the family's bread winner. If we want to eat we need her."

Mush and Blink agreed. "Ok, not Sarah then," Blink replied. "Who else is left-"

"I'll do it."

Mafia almost took it back, but as soon as the words came out of her mouth it was done. All the boys turned to her, surprised and shocked to see her sneak up on them like that. The girl could feel Spot's icy cold glare on her back, but she ignored it for the time being. "I'll take care 'o' im'," she volunteered. "He'll talk ta me, Isa know he will. Jack trusts me; I've known im' longer and well enough."

"Yeah, maybe a little too well," Spot murmured, just loud enough for Mafia and the rest to hear. Not willing to endure his mockery any longer the street girl snapped her head around to face the King of Brooklyn, her expression frosty and cruel. "If youse got something ta say Conlon spit it out," she spat at him. "Otherwise keep it ta youseself." Addressing the others, she separated herself from the group again and started off in the direction Jack had been spirited off to. "He'll be by da market, at least dat's where I'm headed. Get back ta wherever youse need ta be, all 'o' youse. Go find ya giorls, return ta ya borough, just stay outta my way."

And with that she was gone.

David shuddered as he and the Manhattaners headed back to the LH and their girlfriends. Spot was already gone, to where be anyone's guess. Les had run off to find Sarah, as it was their day to go get groceries, and no matter the circumstances the Jacobs never skipped out on chores. "If Mafia wasn't then, she's definitely on a war path now," he commented. "Do you think she'll be able to convince Jack to come back?"

Racetrack shrugged. "If she can't no one can."

_Manhattan Marketplace, some random street, 1899_

As she made her way down the crowded street, weaving her way through the vendors and shoppers hustling by trying to purchase their items for the day, Mafia scanned the area around her for any sign of Jack. No, it was Francis- no, _Jack_- Francis was dead, it had to be- or was it Francis- but then again, Jack-? Mafia nearly screamed in frustration. She didn't need this, especially not now. Everything was going wrong. Crypt was on the loose, Spot was in love- yet- hated her, her family of newsgirls was falling apart and now her best friend had abandoned her.

_No, no, you can't think like that,_Mafia scolded herself. _Jack's still Jack. He's still reasonable, he knows you and you know him. He didn't abandon you,_ _he's protecting you. He promised, right? _This little conversation with herself frustrated Mafia even more, so she let it go for the time being and tried again to find Cowboy her efforts did not disappoint. No more than a hundred feet away soon the poor boy, dressed it a hot grungy suit that she knew he hated and carrying a stack of papers over his shoulder. He looked absolutely miserable.

"Jack!" she called out to him, pushing past other street walkers and trudging up to him. "Jack, watt happened?" She knew there was something wrong with the guy as soon as Mia could see his face. It was the look of guilt, of pain and remorse, one she'd worn all too often lately. "Jack, are youse ok?" But the newsboy just muttered something and shoved past her.

This was going to be harder than she'd originally thought, but Mafia knew she could manage. "Francis Sullivan, youse get back here dis instant!" she demanded, running up in front of him again. "Don't walk away from me when Isa talking ta youse!" Jack glared down at her and finally set his papers down to talk. "Da guys sent ya didn't dey?" he murmured, refusing to look her straight in the eyes. "Didn't deys?"

"Isa came outta me own free will," Mafia replied shortly. "But dis ain't 'bout me. Watt happened last night Jack? David was all ready ta bust ya out! We were waitin' for youse back at da LH!" Jack sighed and finally looked at her, sadness writing a story all over his face. "Youse don't understand-"

"Don't gimme dat, youse bet ya bottom, dollar Isa do!" Maf retorted angrily. "Youse ain't in for da money, no matta watt youse said ta Davey. Youse ain't goin' ta Santa Fe anytime soon, we both know dat. Pulitzer told youse something ya didn't wanna hear, didn't he? He scared ya into turnin' scab, am I right? Jack, Isa ain't stupid, da signs are dere! He bribes people all da time, but for once he couldn't with one person, an' one person only. Dat was youse, an' he knew it. So he blackmailed youse, is dat it? Did he threaten us? Don' tell me he didn't, we both know youse ain't a good liar Jack."

Jack was astonished Mafia had deduced so much out of one glance that he almost asked if she'd followed him to the mansion with David, but he knew deep down he hadn't and kept quiet, at least about that. "Sounds like youse got it all figured out, dacha Maf?" he snorted. The girl shrugged. "Like Isa said, Isa ain't stupid. Watt are ya gonna do 'bout it?"

Her friend smirked. "Youse bein' so smart? Nothin', couldn't do anything 'bout it otherwise-"

"Isa meant youse turnin' scab, ya dummy!" Mafia snapped. "Youse ain't gonna stay a turncoat forever, it ain't in ya blood. Youse also have Sarah, who, by da way, still believes in ya even aft' all dat stuff ya did, so turn around an' take off ya fancy old for nothin' suit so we can get a move on!"

Mafia's prep talk seemed to reawaken Jack and his line of thinking, and the newsboy smiled. "Ya always could smack sense into a guy," he grinned, setting down the papers he'd brought. "C'mon, we gotta strike ta finish."

Just then an earth-shattering shriek pierced the air. Both newsies snapped their heads around to see Sarah and Les being harassed by Oscar and Morris Delancy. Les was caked in mud and Sarah had just socked Morris square across his jaw, drawing blood. Mafia remembered David saying something about Sarah not being as strong physically, more in the mental and emotional department, but that obviously didn't stop her from laying one right across a Delancy's face. Jack was gone in an instant- he was already on top of Morris and beating the life out of the guy. Mafia in turn took on Oscar, who'd just finished slugging David, newly arriving on the scene, in the gut. She quickly punched the boy in the nose and wrapped her leg around his knee before caving it in. The scab went down in three short blows, something Mafia had been taught by her time in Brooklyn but perfected in the year she and her gang were incognito.

The girl turned just in time to see the brother stumble off, shouting and cursing them, as Jack helped Sarah to her feet. Les came bounding over and quickly stopped in front of Cowboy, smiling like it was his birthday. "I knew you'd come back!" Jack ruffled the small boy's hair and looked at David, who was clutching his side. Mafia went over and helped him stretch it out. "Don't lean on it too hard," she advised. "Youse won't recover an' Cloud'll have me hide."

David wasn't listening, however. He was too busy staring at Jack. "Couldn't stay away, huh?" Jack shook his head. "Guess I can't be somethin' I ain't." Mafia grinned and waved at Sarah, who mouthed a thanks and hugged Les. "A scab?" David asked. Jack snorted humorlessly and looked off in the path the Delancy's had gone. "Nah, smart."

_Jacob's Apartment, Manhattan, 1899_

**(AN:- this was an omitted part from the movie, so I re-added it)**

The four teens soon found themselves sitting on the Jacobs's apartment fire escape later that day, each crunched in some position or another to fit onto the small iron landing. "Without you the strike's falling apart…" David was saying, looking at Jack sadly. "All the guys, they're done. Spot's already thinking about drawing his forces back to Brooklyn; he was pretty mad at you this morning. I don't think we can expect any more help from him."

"Typical," Mafia muttered, ignoring the disturbed look she got from Jack. She frowned at him, and then realized she hadn't gotten the chance to tell him what had gone down between the two of them the previous night. "Me an' Spot kinda had a fallin' out," she explained thoughtlessly. "We, uh, parted ways on bad terms."

Jack grimaced. "Geez Maf, watt could ya possibly have done ta give him da slip? Spot was infatuated with youse last time Isa heard." "Still is," David replied before she had a chance to deny it. "Unfortunately, he has no idea whatsoever about how to go about coping with it." Sarah laughed shortly and handed a piece of bread to Jack. "Here, you look famished. Now I don't know much about this Spot Conlon, but from I can tell he's pretty decent if you get on his good side. Mafia, can't you go apologize to him or something? He would listen to you- all the other Brooklynites do, or so David tells me."

The street girl glanced up at her friend and shrugged, seemingly careless but on the inside weeping. "Spot's also da kind 'o' person ta not forgive easily," she scoffed. "Trust me, he ain't gonna make kindly ta seein' me in Brooklyn any time soon. Isa already took a big risk goin' ova ta visit Ink an' Injun dis mornin'. I ain't too keen ta try me luck again."

David snorted humorlessly. "From the looks of it your luck ran out a long time ago," he commented, ignoring the glare he got from his older sister. "You've been surviving off of your fists and your wit." Jack sighed, running his hand through his hair. "But back ta da point; I got no choice. Isa stay here, dey lock me up 'til I'm twenty-one."

Just then Les clambered up with a pair of shoes. "Jack, for the trip - a pair of cowboy boots! Sorta." Mayer Jacobs appeared behind his youngest son with some clothes, Ester following suit with food. She gave it to Jack, patting his arm affectionately. "Who knows what's there to eat where you're going," she said. Mayer nodded in agreement, handing over the clothing articles. "A few things of mine and David's. Wish we had money to give you..."

By the look in Jack's eyes Mafia saw he was very moved by such the loving gestures of kindness, even when he thought he didn't deserve it. "Who needs it...? I go down ta da train yards, hop me a freight, go in da best style - free..." his voice trailed off. Mayer sighed and smiled in a small way before he and his wife went back inside. "I don't know what's waiting for you in Santa Fe," he said "but you'll always have family here."

An awkward moment made its way between the five newsies, and then Jack got up and tried to move away. Sarah immediately shot her arm to and held him fast. "You're not going to run away," she told him decisively. "They'll just come after you. You have to fight them." Mafia grinned at her sharp commentary and wit. David had been right; his sister was pretty quick when it came to things like this, behind her dull façade she usually hid behind. Mafia couldn't blame her; if she were her she would too.

"They got it all wrapped up, Sarah and nothin' I can do is gonna make one bit of difference," Jack replied grudgingly. "You're wrong. You touched people you don't even know about' Sarah insisted. She removed a couple of stained papers from her shawl- the main reason she hadn't truly fought as fiercely as she could have a few hours ago. She had been hiding these. Mafia inched closer to get a look, and then grinned when she saw what it was. "Denton's story," Sarah explained. "Mafia, I don't think you were there when he gave it to David-"

"Race told me 'bout it," Mafia explained, reading it quickly. Her eyes drank in the story, her mind absorbing it like a sponge. This was the best thing she'd ever read. "Jack, ya gotta read dis- its great-"

"Denton looked out for himself just like I gotta do, so save it," Cowboy replied stubbornly. But Sarah wouldn't have it. "Just listen!" she snapped. " _'The men who run this city are terrified of the Newsies strike - because other child laborers in the factories and sweatshops are hearing the message of the Newsies leader -' " _

"That's you!" Les cried out, shaking Jack's shoulder excitedly. "He's writing about you!"

" _'In the voice of Jack Kelly, these children hear strength and pride_,' " Sarah continued. " _'Most of all, they hear hope_...' " Mafia looked over at Jack. The poor guy was sweating, he was so shocked. He stared down at the papers questioningly, drinking it in. The entire article was completely about him... Suddenly he dropped his things and swung himself down onto the escape below them. Glancing back up, he grinned. "C'mon ya wusses!' he called up to them. "We gotta find Denton before he leaves da city!"

Mafia looked at Sarah, and the two shared a thoughtful smile. There was no more Francis Sullivan. Jack Kelly, and Jack Kelly alone- he was back.

_Denton's Apartment, Manhattan, 1899_

Mafia stood at the reporter's door with Jack, Sarah, David and Les, listening to Denton read his own words.

"'- And that is what terrifies the powers-that-be, for they know our city thrives on the shame of child labor. Therefore, Jack Kelly's voice must be stopped, whatever the cost..." he stopped and smiling a bit. "Good writing isn't it?"

Jack looked at the reporter somberly. "All dem sweatshop kids are listenin' ta me?" Denton shrugged. "They think if the Newsies can do it, why can't they? All they need is a leader." Jack frowned, thinking. "The minute Isa show me face Isa back in da Refuge," he muttered. Denton frowned as well, but more thoughtful than Jack's. You'd have help this time. I've been investigating the Refuge – I know somebody who's going to be very interested in Snyder's little racket."

Mafia let a ghost of a smile flutter across her face. She hated Snyder about as much as Jack did (forgetting that there wasn't as huge a price on her head as his, since she hadn't been checked into the prison yet and was basically dead to authorities. David smiled wryly as well. "What happened to the ace war correspondent?" he asked smugly. Denton shrugged and led them inside. "This war will do for now."

Sarah sat down at the table next to Mafia and drummed her fingers on the table nervously. "Whatever happens, it's Jack's decision. He's the one in danger." All paused at that, deep in thought. Les looked over at Jack. "What are you thinking Jack?"

The newsboy grinned, still deep in thought. "Yeah... I'm thinkin' 'o' Newsie Square full 'o' kids..." David at once picked up the train of thought. "... Another rally," he gasped "right under Pulitzer's nose, and not just the Newsies-"

"- Every workin' kid from every sweatshop in New York," Jack finished. "We gotta get da word out - let's go get da Newsies –"he then caught himself. "Deys still think Isa a scab." That dampened everyone's mood for a while, but then Les suddenly jumped out of his seat, thinking of something he'd said earlier. "I'll tell em' youse was a spy!"

Everyone laughed and agreed to the idea, and Denton sat down with the rest of them. "How're you gonna reach all these people?" he asked. "No paper in New York will print anything about the strike." Jack grinned slyly. "We're newsies ain't we? So we make our own paper."

"Shut up and let me think!" David snapped. "We need all the things the papers do in order to make this work."

Now the idea was starting to take off. "Whatta ya need to start a paper?" Jack thought out loud. "Writers, right? So we got Denton. What else?"

"Advertisements!" Les shouted happily, but when all the older people in the room looked him he shrank back a little. "Comics?" Denton stuck to the cold facts. "A printing press. And no paper or printer is going to defy Pulitzer." Everyone feel silent in discouragement, but then Jack got an idea. Les. Go set me straight with the Newsies, okay? Tell 'em to meet us later at the World Building." Les shot up and out the door with the energy only a child his age could and was off on his mission. Everyone looked questioning at Jack.

The newsboy grinned slyly. "Just so happens, I know a guy this a printing press." Mafia smiled wryly, catching on. "Youse sure ain't got nothin' against breakin' da law anymore den ya needs ta don't youse Jack?"

Jack grinned and shrugged, but Denton jumped and snapped his head over to look at her, like seeing her for the first time. "I'm sorry; I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Bryan Denton, reporter for the _Sun_." Mafia nodded and shook his hand. "Isa seen youse 'round. I'm Mafia Powell, reporter ta none. Youse da guy who wrote dat article ain't ya?"

The reporter nodded. "Indeed. You look familiar. Aren't you the young lady who performed at Irving Hall the other night? Spot Conlon told me all about you."

Mafia frowned and her mood darkened. "Isa bet he did." Denton looked at her strangely, but decided not to say anything. Glancing back at jack (who was making eyes at Sarah) he pointed out the door. "So Jack, where is this printing press you spoke of?" The newsboy snapped back to attention (with David and Mafia snickering in the background) and allowed himself a smug smile of satisfaction. "We wait until nightfall. Den Isa gonna show youse history in da makin'."

_Manhattan LH, 1899_

Jack carefully led Sarah, Mafia David, and Denton down the rickety stairs of the _New York World's_ Distribution Center, a candle in hand. "They're right above us," he warned "an' if Weasel catches us, it won't be just me dey'll throw in da slammer." Mafia could barely hear over the sound of the whirring presses, but she got the message. "Oh c'mon Jack, we got out before, we can do it again." But her old friend shook his head. "It ain't you an' me Isa worried 'bout," he told her, nodding over at the Jacobs'.

Denton headed straight for the old press, checking it over expertly. "Wow, old man Pulitzer never threw anything away," he commented. "It'll take all night, but I think we'll manage." Jack meanwhile directed Sarah and David to ink, paper and other supplies they needed. "Let's get goin' guys, we don't got forever. Sarah, can youse hand me dat paper? David, go help Denton with settin' up da printin' letters-"

"Watt da youse want me ta do Jack?" Mafia piped up. Jack shot her a stern look. "Shhh, or we all go ta jail!" Mafia cringed, remembering, and nodded. "Go find Les, would ya?" Jack continued. "He can't be dat far away-"

"Here I am!" Les announced quietly, tiptoeing down the stairs and appearing next to Cowboy in an instant. "They bought it, everyone's in! Racetrack, Mush, Blink, Boots, the girls, they're all on their way. Kloppman let us borrow his old wagon; we can distribute the papers from there!" Jack patted the small boy on the back, much to Les's delight. "Good boy kid, we're in business now-"he then paused. "Watt 'bout Spot? Was he dere?"

Les shook his head. "Race said he moved all his newsies back to Brooklyn after you turned scab. I don't think he's coming." Denton frowned from his position over by the press while David smacked his hat across the wall irritably. "We'll never get the strike back off the ground at this rate!" he groaned. "All the other boroughs only followed us because Brooklyn did- without them we're toast."

"Don't say that," Sarah scolded her brother. "We can do this without anyone else's help. We got this far just with the four of us didn't we? Plus, the rest of Manhattan's coming back to rally behind us." Mafia nodded, admiring Sarah's determination. "She's right David. Who needs Brooklyn when we got each other?"

"If we don't get back our original support den da boys upstairs ain't gonna take us seriously. Dey'll say 'deys ain't got da support dey used ta' an' dey can life with dat. We gotta cause such a huge ruckus dey'll _have _ta lower da price."

David nodded in agreement, taking Jack's side. "You know the saying; do you want to know who you are? Don't ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you, by-"

"Thomas Jefferson," Mafia finished. "I know da sayin'." David frowned, clearly impressed. "I never knew you were a fan." The girl shrugged, handing Denton another stack of paper to copy. "Its common knowledge Davey," was all she said, but David got the feeling that she was holding back something. However, Mafia would also clam up the moment she felt pushed, so he kept quiet.

Les peered out the window to see Racetrack, Mush, Cloud, Witch, Lucky, Phantom, Daisy, Blink and Boots (who for some reason had decided to forgive Jack long before he'd turned against Pulitzer) rattling down the lane in a rickety old wagon. "They're coming guys!" he whispered excitedly. "They're almost here!"

"Hey Denton, da we got da first batch 'o' papers ready?" Jack asked.

"Almost," the reporter replied, wrapping up his work. "Just two more and they'll be ready to distribute. So, you say we're heading everywhere?" The newsboy leader nodded. "Yeah, including Brooklyn." Sarah whirled around to face them both, the look of shock beseeching her face. "Who is going to want to travel into Brooklyn, especially now? They left as soon as it got difficult."

"They left as soon as they got betrayed," David corrected. "Brooklyn and especially Spot Conlon won't stand for denial of trust. Ever." Mafia laughed humorlessly. "Dat ain't da half 'o' it," she muttered. David eyed her suspiciously again, but stayed silent. "That point is, we need him and his support again if we want to win this thing," he continued. "We'll need an ambassador. "

"Well it ain't gonna be me," Kid Blink stated plainly, trooping in quietly with the rest of his fellow strikers. It seemed that the nine newsies had finally joined the party in Pulitzer's backyard. "Ain't gonna be us either," Lucky added, referring to herself and her sister as she leaned over on her boyfriend's shoulder affectionately. "Brooklyn's too dangerous, 'specially now with all dem Brooklynites riled up ova Spot's decision. Ink an' Bowler were furious when dey had ta pull all da guys outta 'Hattan. Deys honestly thought dis strike was gonna work out."

Sarah's eyes suddenly lit up with an idea, and everyone leaned forward to listen to what she had to say. "That means we still have allies there, right?" she confirmed. When Jack and Racetrack nodded she continued. "Well, all we have to do is send someone with authority and connections over there and they'll rally around that person. It'll give hope to them, and morally that overrides anything Conlon has over them, at least temporarily. Do you think that's accurate?"

"Deys might see dat as betraying Spot though," Boots commented. "Brooklynites ain't da type ta go off aft' a new leader, however temporary he is, without some sorta already standin' trust. Dat eliminates Cowboy an' any younger newsies."

"Watt 'bout Davey," Cloud asked, threading her arm through the newsboy's. David blushed. "He's a very capable leader!" "They don't know me well enough Cloud," he replied regretfully. "And Conlon doesn't like me anyways." "I'll go," Mush offered, puffing out his chest. "Isa pretty tough, an' da guys ova dere know me."

"But da deys trust youse?" Race asked rhetorically, which silenced Mush again. Witch patted her boyfriend on the back reassuringly. "I'm glad youse not goin'. Dem boys ova dere ain't da mushy type youse are." She pecked him affectionately on the cheek. Everyone groaned. "Aw, get a room youse two!" Phantom chuckled sarcastically.

Jack stayed focused on the problem at hand. "Sarah's right; we might still have an ally in Brooklyn. If we can get someone ova dere dat da majority 'o' dem trust, den da rest will suit. Spot can't do nothin' 'bout it if someone with almost as much power challenges im'." All heads turned to a silent and brooding Mafia. The street girl's head snapped up startled. "Watt? - Wait, youse want me ta go ova ta Brooklyn don't ya?"

"Youse da only person outta all 'o' us deys like," Boots reasoned bluntly. Racetrack glared at him. "What he?" the African American boy asked. "It's da truth!"

"It won't help us much if Maf can't convince em'," Phantom replied, taking up for her best friend. "Da Brooklyn boys are a lot 'o' things, but stupid ain't one 'o' em'." "Yes, yes I think we've already established that," Denton sighed impatiently. "Miss Antoine, is there any way that we could convince you to go. At least _try _to rally up the newsies, would you? I don't suppose I could tempt you with your own article in the _Sun, _could I?"

"Thank Denton, but newspapers haven't meant a thing ta me in a long time," Mafia replied, somewhat regretfully. "But just 'cause it's for da end good I'll go, if it'll get youse all off me back." The newsgirl grinned mischievously. "Ya know watt? Dis will be da second time in 24 hours I'll have given Conlon da slip, walkin' into his territory without his permission."

Jack laughed softly (still remembering not to wake the Delancy's upstairs) and rubbed his hands together. "Alright den, it's settled. Let's get ta work everybody, da strike ain't gonna carry itself."

**On that awesome note, I've got a poll going. You see, right now I've been a horrible Fansie and started another story, but this time it's about Lord of the Rings. Which one should I finish first? (Keep in mind that I'd have to take time off the other one to focus on the one chosen). OK, review and vote on my poll and I'll see what I can do! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Before we get on with it, a quick reminder: my poll's up, so vote! Which do I finish first- THE LOST BOROUGH or THE 10****th**** COMPANION?**

_Brooklyn, New York, 1899_

Mafia walked into Brooklyn about two hours after their meeting in the Distribution Center basement. She was nervous, to say the least. How would she approach Conlon, the first real time she'd actually spoken with him one-on-one since that night? Everything in Brooklyn looked intimidating, even the skyline. _You're working yourself up too much Mia, _the girl scolded herself. _You've lived in Brooklyn almost your whole life. Nothing should scare you. _But she still kept her guard up, fists clenched and eyes open. Kings County wasn't the place you could just meander through at four in the morning. It was still a dangerous part it town.

Suddenly, just as Mafia passed a small, dark alleyway, it happened. A large figure quickly stepped out of the surrounding darkness and grabbed her, pulling the girl back into the alley with it. But Mafia was prepared. She found the man's pressure point by his finger and twisted it; the person yelped and let her go, wincing in pain. Mafia then spun around the slugged him hard across the jaw and jammed her heel down the back of his knee. The man went down.

But it wasn't a man- it was a boy, perhaps only a couple years younger than herself but certainly taller. He looked lanky at first but a clear shot of him on the ground revealed that he'd bulked up in the past few months, no longer a wimp he appeared to be. He looked up at Mafia with an admiring glint in his dark eyes.

"Well den, if it ain't Mafia Powell, back in Brooklyn," the boy chuckled, pulling himself to his feet with a little trouble. "Last time Isa saw youse ya were sellin' papes on da corner four blocks from here. Where ya been?"

"None 'o' youse business S-"Mafia started to say, but the boy cut her off. "Hey, don't say me name!" he hushed her, looking around nervously. "I ain't supposed ta be here. Listen, Isa got some information youse might have an interest in." Mafia's eyes narrowed and she placed her hands on her hips, aggravated. "So Isa hear nothin' for ova a year from youse an' now ya suddenly wanna help me?" she smirked. "Dat's a first."

"Da ya want me help or not?" her companion snapped. Mafia took her hands of her side and crossed them, glaring over at him. "Fine, shoot. But youse only got five minutes."

The boy smiled recklessly. "Even if it's 'bout Crypt?" Mafia's ears perked up and her head snapped over. Her gray eyes sparkled was dangerous curiosity. She leaned in close. "Tell me everything, spare no details." But the boy shook his head, a bit remorsefully. "I can't, mainly because I haven't got em' all. Isa just know watt deys told me."

"Youse infiltrated Crypt's gang?" Mafia whispered excitedly. "How'd ya do it?"

"A lot 'o' kissin' up an' a little stealth," he replied. "But it ain't just Crypt's group-""Watt da youse mean, it ain't his group?" Mafia snapped. "He's da leader ain't he?" Her companion shook his head, looking around fearfully again. "No. Listen, Isa ain't got any more time." He pulled out an old, yellowed envelope and pressed it into Mafia's hands. The contents were dry and in pristine condition. "All me information Isa can give ya is in here. Don't open it now- wait until youse alone. Isa can't say much with certainty right now Mafia, but I'll tell youse dis; Crypt ain't alone." And with that he was gone.

Mafia swore under her breath, cursing the boy and his mysterious antics, stopping only when she remembered that she too had a job to do. Tucking the envelope into the folds of her worn jacket the street girl ducked out of the alley and headed towards the docks.

_West Side, New York, 1899_

"Careful Phantom!"

"Watch it Boots!"

"Help me ova on dis side!"

"Dat's me foot Lucky!"

"Jack, we're almost dere."

"Sarah, look for Taffy's Square, dat means we're close!"

"Where are we goin' again?"

All these and many more comments and questioned echoed in the wee hours of the morning as the Manhattan kids made their way into West Side territory. This was their last stop, and Jack had insisted on getting the news out to all the territories in New York, not just the boroughs. So far very few of the borough leaders had listened to what they had to say, but many of the newsies had listened and were reading the paper Denton had written. Judging by their expressions they had liked what they saw.

"Da youse think dat Magic is gonna listen ta us?" Race asked to no one is particular as they pushed their rickety wagon across the border. "He was pretty ticked when Cowboy turned scab, an' da Wes Side's tight with Brooklyn." Mush shrugged, stepping over a wooden board lying in the streets to save a falling stack of papers. "But Magic also knows sense when he hears it. He's no idiot, not like da last Chief Westie. Dat guy was nuts-"

"Dat's why deys _replaced_ im' Mush!" Witch laughed, rolling her green eyes. "Yeah Mush, get with da program!" Blink added cheerfully. "We're almost through distributin' papes anyhow." But Boots shook his head disdainfully, craning his neck from atop the wagon where he, Les and Daisy sat to listen in on the conversation below. "Isa ain't so sure 'bout dat Blink. Da Westies may be smart, but dere also carry a violent streak. Dey'll soak anyone who runs across dere border without permission. Kind 'o' like Brooklyn."

"Yeah, but in Brooklyn deys wait ta see if youse friendly 'o' not," Race muttered. David caught his remark and shuddered. "You newsies sure don't like other boroughs do you?"

Jack chuckled lightly as he pushed the wagon with Sarah, with whom he kept bumping arms with. "Naw, we got allies with each other an' such. It's mainly da territories dat get into full fledged wars with one another. Dere smaller, so deys think deys need ta show dere worth. Although, West Side's pretty good 'bout keepin' da peace 'round here. Ova in Coney Island, dat's where ya need ta watch out. Youse got some real weirdoes out dere. It comes with da circus an' amusement parks Isa guess."

"Wow, I didn't think Coney Island was much a terrible place," Sarah said, looking worried. "Remind me to pack a kitchen knife with me next time I take Les to see a show." Jack grinned roguishly. "Maybe youse just need da right guy 'round ta show youse da ropes." Everyone groaned.

Suddenly, before anyone could do anything, eight newsies had appeared out of nowhere and were charging forwards at top speed, two of them holding switchblades. "Stop!" Les shouted at the top of his lungs, hopping down in front of the wagon with Daisy and holding his hands up. "We come in peace!"

The voice of a child stopped them. All the Westies present slowed their descent upon the group but kept their distance. From the looks for things their leader Magic was among them. "Who goes dere?" he called to them, about 50 feet out. "Watt's ya business in West Side?"

"It's 'Hattan in we're here ta speak with Magic!" Cloud replied loudly, squinting her eyes to make them out. "We ain't here ta fight!" Magic motioned for the boys to stop and approached the gang with his second Runner, virtually unarmed. The two boys with blades had stayed back. "Jack Kelly, is dat youse?" he asked, his voice laced with malice. "Last time Isa checked youse was a scab for da Big Man Joe. Watt is youse doin' back here, with ya enemies no less?"

The New York cowboy shrugged and held his hands out. "Isa can't be something Isa ain't Isa guess," he admitted, using the exact same words he'd told David less than 24 hours ago. "We're here ta talk."

"Den talk Cowboy," the second of the Westies (whose named was Runner) said. "But be warned, we ova here in West Side ain't too keen on trustin' turncoats." "He's not a turncoat!" Sarah snapped, stepping up to the plate. "He came back, didn't he?" Magic nodded towards her in acknowledge of what she'd said, approving her judgment. "Da dame's right; Kelly's clean, so we hear im' out. Go for it Jack."

The Manhattan leader took a deep breath and began. "Ok, so it goes like dis. Youse know dat reporter we have workin' with us, Bryan Denton? He wrote dis amazin' article 'bout our strike, an' we're getting' it out ta all da workin' kids 'o' New York. Davey here's under da impression dat if we can get enough 'o' da kids from da shops an' da rest 'o' da newsies back we'll be unstoppable, an' dey'll have ta give in."

"Way to pin it on me Jack," David muttered under his breath. Cloud snickered.

"-so watt da ya say Magic? Youse ready ta get back in da game?" Jack asked hopefully. Magic frowned thoughtfully, weighing his opinion out mentally. "Isa dunno Jack," he said. "Ya talk a good game, an' Isa like da way ya boy Davey thinks. It just might work. But watt 'bout Brooklyn? Spot's even more mad 'bout youse leavin' den we were; he'll be a tough sell."

"Isa ain't talkin' 'bout Spot an' Brooklyn, Magic."

"But he's got more power den youse do Cowboy. We could help ya, we really could, an' I'd do it in a heartbeat too, but we're still in debt from da last time he saved our hides. We do something he doesn't approve 'o'-"he illustrated slitting his throat "West Side's toast." Jack sighed, running his hand through his sweat-drenched hair in frustration. "C'mon Magic, ya gotta help us!" he pleaded. "Without any support we're beatin' a dead horse!"

But the Westies leader just shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry Cowboy," he apologized. "Isa really am. But I gotta look out for me own people first. Get Brooklyn's undivided support again an' maybe we can talk." He leaned forward and whispered something in Runner's ear, to which the second nodded to, then turned tail and walked back to his lodging house alone. Runner waited until Magic was out of sight before motioning the rest of his party forwards. "Magic knows he can't become directly involved with youse again without dire consequences with Brooklyn," he explained. "But he also doesn't wanna leave youse stranded out in da middle 'o' da ocean without a lifejacket."

"Watt is youse sayin' Runner?' Race snapped. "Get ta da point already!"

The West Side second in command waited until all six of his newsies were present before speaking again. "Magic's decided he's stayin' outta dis, but he was also thinkin' ahead a bit. Suppose some 'o' his men, 'o' dere own free will an' no influence from himself, were ta, per say, go an' assist youse for da remainder 'o' da strike? Deys don't say nothin' dat puts dem in connection with da Westies but still side with youse, as, watt da youse say, _unsaid representatives."_

Everyone's eyes lit up. Jack grinned. "I'd say dat dose men outta get dere butts ova ta Manhattan pronto." Runner nodded, smiled slightly. "Great. If youse were ta say da word Cowboy, an' deys just might show up." He then smirked. "On a 'completely' unrelated topic, dese are me finest boys. Da big guy in da back's Bolder, tiny man's Lamplighter, dere's Knight me little brudda, Hawk our only biord, our veteran Grudge and dat guy ta ya far right is Spook."

David thanked Runner and turned to Jack. "We're game?" Jack nodded. "Game. Runner, it sure was nice 'o' youse ta tell me 'bout dem men, an' ya boys too. We just might need em' today. Hypothetically, 'o' course."

"'O' course. See youse Jack. We'll be watchin'." And in the blink of an eye all seven of them were gone. Race laughed out loud and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Now we're cookin'. Isa guess dat's it for da territories, since West Side was our last one- hey, we forgot China Town!"

The girls all burst out in grins. "Don't worry 'bout China Town Race," Phantom reassured her boyfriend, smirking. "Yeah, dere already covered," Witch agreed. Mush and Blink each wore identical expressions of confusion. "Watt is youse six talkin' 'bout?" Blink asked. Lucky chuckled and said nothing. All the men looked at each other and presumed to plead with them for information, but none of them would say anything. Finally, Daisy could bear it no longer. "Dere already taken care 'o' because dere still in strike!" she announced excitedly.

Les and David stared at her. "What?""Deys nova stopped strikin' even aft' we all quit," the littlest newsie explained. "Deys just took it back ta dere own territory, since deys ain't stationed in 'Hattan. Ping said just say da word an' dere beside us again!" The rest of the company burst out laughing and shook their heads. "Ok, we got da Westies an' China Town on our side, who else?" Sarah asked.

Jack shook his head. "No one from watt we know yet," he replied dejectedly. "We're all dat's left. Let's just hope our numbers will boost once Maf can convince Conlon ta rejoin."

_Brooklyn docks, New York, 1899_

Mafia approached the docks casually and went to find Ink. She knew that to go up to Spot up front was suicide, but Ink could tell her what she needed to know about Spot's mood before she went in. And judging by the way he was looking at her it was not pretty.

"Well Maf, youse sneaked into Brooklyn twice in 24 hours," the second stated plainly, his arms folded across his chest as Mafia walked up to him. "Youse gotta lot 'o' nerve giorl."

The street rat smiled slightly, her tone cool and collected, revealing nothing. "Youse know me Ink; always walkin' on da wild side."

"Spot won't be happy ta see ya. He was already really mad when he saw youse da other day."

"At da Distribution Center?"

"Bingo."

Mafia sighed, pulling off her cap and fanning herself with it. "Well, he'll have ta deal with it for now. I'm here 'bout da strike."

"He knows."

"How?"

"Biords."

"Thought so. Isa trained em' well, don't ya think?"

"Might fine. Hatter says he let ya pass by without alertin' Spot yesterday. Dat true?"

"Isa called in a favor."

"Figures. Youse didn't dis time though. Deys saw ya comin'."

"Good for dem."

"Youse already knew?"

"Isa lived in Brooklyn an' taught dose kids most 'o' watt Isa know, Ink. Why shouldn't I?"

"I shoulda known. Youse wanted im' ta know youse was comin'."

"Youse caught me."

Ink sighed and let her walk past him onto the docks, where Spot could be seen by the end sitting upon his perch of crates. "Go ahead, he's expectin' youse anyways. Watt da ya want me ta say for youse eulogy?" Mafia laughed as she walked and glanced jokingly back at him. "Tell em' Isa died for me country!" It was an attempt at humor, and the two newsies laughed, but as soon as the moment had passed both turned serious again. Ink turned away, back to his post, and Mafia continued down the ramp towards the crates where Spot sat. If he had already seen her coming he certainly wasn't looking at her now, instead staring out over the water. Mafia took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy.

When she reached the area underneath the crates she stopped, watching Spot. She knew he knew she was there, but if a stranger had come up to him in the same manner she had they wouldn't have had a clue. It was something that just two people with a friendship (or former friendship in their case) had, and both knew it. Finally, the King spoke.

"So, here we are again." Spot didn't even look at her, just fingered his cane in his lap lightly, possibly for effect. "Same docks, same positions, same circumstances, even same people in da exact same place." Mafia saw where he was going with t, and she didn't like it. "Isa ain't here 'bout dat night Spot," she frowned, looking up at him. Spot shrugged, paying her no heed. "Den watt are youse here 'bout, pray tell?"

"Youse know watt Isa here 'bout Conlon."

"Well den how 'bout ya enlighten me?" Spot finally looked down at her and jumped off his throne, standing a couple feet away from her and glaring icily. "If youse not here 'bout us den watt are ya here for?"

Mafia felt her fingers inch back into her pocket for her slingshot, but stopped and let them drop once she remembered that it had broken during the raid at the Vaudeville and she'd throw it away. _Well, that's one part of my life gone. _"Da strike. It's back on." Spot nodded ever so slightly, which killed Mafia. "So deys tell me."

"An' Jack's back too."

"Youse mean _Francis Sullivan_?" he spat, looking away and turning to face the water again, away from her. "So da scab finally came back, huh? Who changed his mind, youse?"

Mafia felt her gray eyes narrow. "No, actually. He did it himself." Spot said nothing, just continued tapping his cane on the wooden docks. Mafia set her jaw. "Deys sent me here ta convince youse ta come back," she continued. "We're goin' through with dis, with or without youse. Jack thinks it's better with-"

"So youse just decide ta _volunteer _an' come ova ta see me, is dat it?" Spot snapped. He still didn't look her way, probably because if he did he would want to break her neck. "Oh no, _Jack_ sent youse here all right, or else ya wouldn't even be on dis side 'o' da bridge-""Since when did it become about Jack?" Mafia asked, her voice laced with anger. "You act like he's a threat-"

"Oh, don't youse pretend like he ain't involved!" Spot retorted, finally turning to face her with his blue eyes like chips of marble. "Don't say youse two ain't-"

"So dat's it!" Mafia interrupted, cutting the King off. "If youse think dat we're somehow involved Conlon, ya barking up da wrong tree! We're like brudda an' sister, always have been an' nothin' more! Are youse seriously dat arrogant dat ya can't even see watt's right in front 'o' ya?"

That silenced him. Spot, who was about to retort back with equal amount of fury, stopped, waited a moment, then closed his mouth. She had him. It was a while before he spoke again. "Isa still ain't sidin' with any scab."

Mafia sighed. She'd known he wasn't going to be easy, but now she had his answer. It was over, and there was nothing she could do. In a last futile attempt to convince him she took out a copy of the article Denton had written, which her friends were distributin' now. "Dis is Denton's article on da strike," she whispered quietly, as so only he could hear. "Da one dat was nova published by da _Sun_, dat is. It's real good; youse should give it a read sometime." She set it down on the dock boards and started to walk away, tears starting to finally form in the corners of her eyes. She pushed them back. _Youse knew he wasn't gonna bite. Just get ova im' an' go home. _

"Mafia, wait."

Spot's voice stopped her. She knew it shouldn't have, but it did, mid step. She slowly pivoted around and looked at him. He was staring over at her, eye to eye at last. Pain was clearly visible on his face. "Did youse mean watt ya said?" he asked. "Dat night ova in da harbor."

"Isa said a lot 'o' things Spot," Mafia replied stiffly, carefully masking her sadness. "Youse gonna have ta be more specific den dat."

"When youse said dat youse loved me."

There it was. The street girl felt a lump in her throat and she swallowed hard. "Dis ain't 'bout us Spot-""Isa know it ain't 'bout us Mafia!" Spot replied. "But Isa just wanna know- did youse mean it?" The two looked at each other a long time, for what seemed like forever, until finally Mia found her answer. "Why would Isa lie 'bout something like dat Spot?" she asked in return, her lip quivering. "I love you; I always have."

And then, before Spot could say anything else, she turned around and disappeared.

**OMG I almost cried writing this! I hate it when my characters fight! (cries 10 minutes before continuing) Update on the plotline: the strike's definitely gonna end in the next chapter, and then another two chapter's focusing on strictly Crypt and his threat. One for him and Spot and Mafia's big fight to the finish, one for finale. WARNING: It is not a totally happy ending, just like my other story PUSHED TOO FAR (which, btw, I have a commercial on YouTube for! Link's on my page), but it will have a sequel, just FYI. If you don't want to wait until I get my other stories done don't read any farther than this. **

**And on that happy note, let us give thanks that I am almost finished and review! **


	16. Chapter 16

**Almost done! Boo-hoo! Going for a sequel! ** **Yeah! Before we get going, I have to post this one review, it's so funny. The person who sent this is awesome (at least in my opinion. It's totally something I would do too!)**

**Panda Bear (guest) **

**You must update soon! YOU MUST! I have been so addicted to reading this, it ain't even funny. Yesterday I had to hide my phone under the dinner table because I couldn't stop reading, and today at one point I couldn't stop reading and I forgot to blink so my eyes were watering! **

**OK, my moment is over. Let's get on with it-**

_Brooklyn docks, 1899_

Spot watched her disappear from sight, his heart sinking. How could he have been so stupid, to let her leave like that? What was he thinking? Silently, he bent over and picked up the article she'd left behind, reading it over. What he read startled him, shocked him- "Ink! Get ova here now!" His second was there at his side in an instant. "What is it Spot?" he asked. "Where's Maf?"

"Gone," the king replied. "But so are we. Look at dis." He thrust the paper into Ink's hands. The boy scanned it over, and then handed it back over. "Yeah, it's da article Denton wrote. A couple boys from Queens sent a couple copies ova. Why ya so interested?" Spot glared at him. "Why? Don't ask questions Ink, dat's my job. We're headed ta 'Hattan, an' take everyone we got. Round up da biords too, tell em' ta hit all da territories an' boroughs in da city. We're back in da game."

Ink grinned, tipped his hat and dashed off to do as instructed. Spot took another look at the paper. _Don't worry Maf, _he thought to himself. _I'm comin'. _

_Distribution Center, Manhattan, New York, 1899_

Mafia trudged up to her friends who were sitting up by the statue of Horace Greenleaf. Phantom was the first to see her. "Hey Maf!" she called out to her as she walked towards them. "Where's-"it hit her. "Oh. They're not comin'?" Everyone's heads turned to see Mafia shake her head. "He's not comin'," she confirmed. "Wouldn't join up with a '_scab_'." She spat out the word bitterly. Phantom patted her friend's back as she sat down. "It's ok Maf," she reassured her. "It'll be fine." The street girl shrugged her hand off angrily. "Let's just get dis ova with."

She looked over at Jack, who was standing next to Sarah looking dejected. She noticed a couple of the boys from West Side and Swifty and Ping, but other than that there was no one else from any of the borough's they'd visited. "Looks like youse struck out too, Cowboy."

Jack looked glumly at the empty square, at the gates of the World where Weasel and his goons were beginning to line up, clubs in hand. "No one's comin'. It's just us." They were silent after that, disappointed, feeling alone and defeated. Les and Daisy sat down on the statue after a while; they were young, but it was easy enough to see they knew it was going to be difficult to pull this off again. Then suddenly Les stepped forward, a defiant look on his face, glaring at the goons beyond the gates.

"Bring it on!" he shouted at them, waving his fist at the scabs behind the gate. He turned back to his fellow comrades and folded his arms across his chest. "What are we waiting for? When the circulation bell starts ringing, are we gonna hear it or what?"

A group of factory boys appeared in the square. All the kids around him began to take heart. Race grinned and stood up, ruffling both the younger's hair. "Naw. What if the Delancy's come out swingin'? Are we gonna see it?"

"No!" Daisy replied, jumping up and waving her hands in the air. More kids were appearing; messengers, garment girls, kids of all kinds, all coming towards the statue. Kids were coming from everywhere, filling the square, swarming and taking the streets by tons, shouting and cheering once they saw the newsies in the square. All of the newsies stood up, watching and stared at the resounding crowd in awe.

Blink was the first to speak. "Who did dis?" he asked in pleasant shock. "Deys won dis whole thing for us!" "We're unstoppable now!" Lucky agreed, squealing in delight. "Maf, da youse see dis?" Her leader nodded, scanning the crowd. "Looks like Brooklyn came through aft' all," she remarked happily. "Isa knew Ink would do something."

"But it ain't Ink who organized dis," Cloud replied, looking up at Mafia, who was dumbstruck. "Look." The bookworm pointed at the standing figure in the middle of the fray, leading the march with his head held high and swinging his cane like a sword. Spot.

Mafia's voice got caught in her throat, and her heart almost stopped. She'd gotten through to him. She couldn't believe it. The girl's chest tightened as she slid down from atop the statue's base and made her way to stand on the curb. Spot saw her and walked across the street to see her. The two looked at each other square in the eyes the entire time, never moving, never blinking, never breaking contact. They stood just inches apart, blue eyes on gray, both narrowing and apprehensive.

"Spot Conlon," Mafia said simply, her lips barely moving to form words. Her arms were crossed.

"Mafia Powell." The King returned the gesture.

"You made it. Couldn't stay away could ya?"

"Dat article sure was convincing…"

"But?"

Spot shrugged, a ghost of a grin flickering across his lips. "Youse word is worth a little more den paper. At least ta me." Mia raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Is dat so?"

"Oh youse 'o' little faith. Ya don't trust me?"

Mafia looked at him with an exasperated sort of glance. "No."

Spot's lips parted to form a smirk. "Dens Isa guess we're even."

"Youse think so?"

The King took his hand and placed it lightly against her cheek, staring deep into her eyes. She stared back carefully, almost soft and completely unguarded. His head dipped down and slowly their lips met. The sounding of the roaring crowd faded away, and silence abounded, at least to them. He expected her to pull away at the shock- she was sure it would be brief, quick and cool. Neither did anything, just stood there. Mafia took Spot's hand and laced her fingers in between his, and Spot deepened the kiss. It was only for a few moments, but it felt like eternity, and for all either of them cared it could stay that way.

When they finally broke apart they stared at each other again. Then Spot broke into a grin. "I know so." Mafia smiled slightly and pecked him on the forehead before pulling away farther and leading him over to where the rest of the newsies were standing. Some of them noticed (most of them the girls) and snickered. Jack looked over at Spot and nodded in his direction. "Glad ya could make it Conlon," he said, staring out over the huge crowd of working class kids. "Where'd youse find all dem?"

"Just waitin' around town wondering' if youse was gonna lead em' Cowboy," Spot replied, trademark smirk dancing upon his lips. "Isa told em' ta grab dere friends an' c'mon ova; looks like da party's just 'bout ta start." He pointed towards an employee of Pulitzer's standing on the steps of the building, scanning the crowd for its leaders. He motioned for someone to come out, and the huge doors of the World Building opened. Seitz, the office manager, marched out, flanked by guards. The crowd opened a patch as he marched up to Jack and David and Spot. Mafia stood behind them.

"We need to talk," he told the four, looking sternly at each of them. "Mr. Pulitzer isn't happy."

Jack gulped, but at the insistence of David kept his cool and spoke. His tone was harsh and cold. "Like I said, I don't transact business with any office boys. We talk to old Joe his self or we don't talk. Period."

The crowd loved it. Seitz stifled a smile at Jack's bravado - a smile of admiration. It sounded like they'd had an ally in him after all. "Then I guess you talk."

Jack beckoned David, Spot and Mafia to follow. They entered the huge doors and Seitz lead them up a flight of stairs, towards Pulitzer's office. Jack glanced back at Spot and Mafia, put two and two together and grinned. "Do err' right Spot," was all he said about it "or someone's gonna be around ta straighten ya out." Spot chuckled lightly. "Isa don't think I have ta worry 'bout youse comin' 'round an' beatin' me senseless Jackie boy. Ya friend's gonna be all right with me."

The New York cowboy snorted with laughter. "It wasn't me Isa was referrin' ta." He gestured at Mafia, who raised an eyebrow in amusement. She elbowed Spot playfully. "Yeah, Cowboy ain't da least 'o' youse worries Conlon." The King laughed and pulled her closer.

The group reached the office and Seitz ushered them inside, mouthed a word of luck before closing the doors and leaving them alone. Pulitzer was waiting by the windows, standing tall and resolute, silent as a mouse, a looming, shadowy figure. Sounds of chanting and shouting floated up from below. David was awed by the palatial office, but Jack sauntered coolly past to the windows. He stood behind the desk, unafraid but carefully placed away from Pulitzer's reach.

Pulitzer finally turned around and glared at Jack. "Now you're going to listen to me boy-"

"Well I'd like ta Joe," Jack replied sarcastically, motioning towards the open window and the jeering crowd outside. "But Isa can't hear ya."

"We had a deal," the newspaper tycoon rasped, fury abounding in his eyes. "You broke it. You're going back to jail." "Maybe," Jack admitted coolly. "But you can't put every kid in that square in jail. They ain't goin' away, Joe."

"Neither am I," he growled. "I can wait them out. It won't be me that's hurt." He glanced over at the three other newsies standing in the back. "And you brought friends too. It's a bold move boy. You really want to see them hurt? Because I can arrange that in a heartbeat-"

"Youse think we're gonna be broken easily?" Mafia asked quietly, catching Pulitzer's attention. "Den ya barkin' up da wrong tree. Mr. Pulitzer, I've been beaten, robbed, spat upon, crushed an' almost killed, multiple times at dat, in my lifetime, which for youse information has only been 'bout 16 years. Isa survived all dat an' more. If youse think I'm gonna get hurt because I'm being arrested an' thrown in prison youse got another thing comin' ta ya."

The man regarded her carefully, looking the street girl up and down. "So you're the girl who escaped the Refuge with Mr. Kelly? I'm not surprised. Young ladies should be seen and not heard."

"Well den ya obviously livin' in da wrong city Joe!" Spot snapped, taking up for her. "Youse lookin' at a giorl who's been behind dis entire strike from da gitgo, an' she ain't goin' away any time soon." He stepped up and glared over at the old man. "None 'o' us are."

Pulitzer just chuckled. "And what do you know of my world, boy? You're just a street urchin with a penny to your name. No proper schooling I presume?" He looked over at Mafia for a second. "Although you young lady, you look familiar-"

"We nova met. Isa positive," Mafia hastily replied, a little too quickly for Spot's taste. He glanced over at the girl, but focused on the task at hand. "We dunno a thing 'bout youse world Mr. Pulitzer?" he smirked, gesturing towards David. "Youse so sure 'bout dat?"

David, being the educated one, cleared his throat and stared Old Joe straight in the eye. "Since the strike, the World's circulation has dropped 70 per cent; advertising has been cut in half. Every day you lose thousands of dollars - just so you can beat us out of a lousy tenth of a cent per paper. Why?"

Jack smiled slyly, pacing over towards where a shocked Pulitzer stood dumbfounded. "Because it ain't about money, Dave – if Joe gives in, that would mean nothin's like us got power. He can't let that happen - no matter what it costs him. Right, Joe?"

The newspaper tycoon clenched his fists in anger and set his jaw. "I have the police outside waiting to arrest you lousy double-crossing kids, and then I'll deal with that rabble in the street!" He crossed over to the buzzer on his desk. Jack, thinking fast, snatched up a copy of the article Denton wrote. "Ya got me, Joe - but tell me one thing, will ya? How'd ya like our paper - nice printin', ain't it? Right off the presses of one of New York's greatest newspapers–"

Pulitzer froze. He looked up at Jack, furious. "All the papers have an agreement... we print nothing about the newsies. Whose press did you use?" Jack shrugged, smiling. Pulitzer turned white. It was Hearst, wasn't it?!"

Everyone was genuinely surprised at the thought. Jack shook his head. "Hearst? Nah, it was yo –"David silenced him, seeing the infuriated gleam in the man's eyes. "I knew it!" Pulitzer cried, leaping to his feet like a wild man. "Whoever helped you print this lying rag is trying to break the strike, get the jump on the rest of us. Well, you're going to expose this backstabber to the other owners – in exchange; I'll call _off_ the police."

Jack and David and spot exchanged glanced as Mia looked on. They all saw an opening. "Not enough, Joe - you gotta deal with our demands. Otherwise, our lips are sealed." The man impatiently groaned. "All right, all right - just say the traitor's name. It's Hearst, isn't it? Say it! Say the name of the scoundrel whose press you used so I can make him the disgrace of the newspaper world! Say his name, all of you!"

He thundered over them, eyes blazing in triumph. The newsies said nothing, just smiled up at him knowingly until at last the horrible truth began to dawn. Jack grinned. "We just wanna say, 'Thanks, Joe'." And Hearst and dem other owners? Maybe they don't have to know. Depends."

Pulitzer walked with stiff dignity to the window; from below, the faint chanting floating from the window seemed deafening to his ears. "Perhaps we can resolve our... small differences." Spot and Mafia grinned in triumph, embracing happily. David hastily pulled a piece of paper with their demands out of his pocket and began to read-

_Outside Distribution Center, Manhattan, 1899_

Race, Phantom, Boots, Cloud, Witch, Mush, Blink, Lucky, Daisy, Les and the rest of the Manhattan newsies began unpacking rotten fruit, getting ready for action. Out of the corner of her eye Cloud spotted several police moving into the square, including a paddy wagon. "Where are they?" she yelped, grabbing everyone's attention. "The Refuge's hear!" "We gotta warn Jack!" Race agreed, grabbing Phantom and pulling her closer to him, as if the mere sight of the wagon would tear her away from him. "Deys still inside!"

The others nodded in agreement, preparing to defend their own. The twins backed up behind the wagon while Blink and Mush stood in front. Even Les and Boots and Snipeshooter shuffled Daisy behind them, not fully grasping the bitterness of the situation. But before anything could happen they spotted something, a sight so rare and extraordinary. Cloud's jaw dropped. "What the-"

Behind Weasel and the line of goons Jack and the rest were quickly approaching, beaming in triumph. Seitz was with them. Les quickly slipped through the bars, forgetting the danger and running to tell Jack but Weasel grabbed him, shoving the small boy back roughly. "Jack! Jack!" Weasel, surprised, turned to see Jack and the others walkin past him, nodding in acknowledgement. Mafia's gray eyes glittered with mischievous malice, and before anyone could do anything lashed out her leg and kicked the grimy man in the shins. Weasel cried in as pain contorted his face, and he took a swing at Mafia, but she ducked out of it easily and continued on with spot as if nothing had happened. The King glared at her. "Watt?" she asked innocently. "He deserved it!"

Spot chuckled slightly. "Yeah, Isa guess he did huh?"

"Youse know it." She leaned in close and pecked him on the cheek. "Glad dat dis is all ova?" Spot shrugged. "It's been one heck 'o' a picnic, an' dat's all Isa sayin'." Both laughed and joined the rest of the newsies at the statue. Jack whispered something in Les's ear, then hoisted the little boy up onto his shoulders for all to see.

"WE BEAT EM'!"

The crowd roared and shouted in victory, so deafening it almost hurt. It wasn't a bad hurt though, more like the good kind that you almost appreciate. Another huge wave of shouts went up outside the gates. They swung open almost immediately and the newsies swarmed in, engulfing Weasel and then the Delanceys -who were trying to look like part of the gang- as they rushed to mob Jack and David. Jack spotted Sarah out of the corner of his eye- she was waving and pointing in alarm at something, wearing a fearfully and alarming expression.

Les and Daisy remembered something "Its da bulls!" Daisy shouted at him, over the crowd's cheering. "Dere here!" Jack at once saw several police shoving through the crowd towards him. He quickly deposited Les and turned to run. Looking right he spotted Snyder right in front of him, hands behind his back. Jack spun away yet again and right into Denton, who stopped him. "Easy, Jack! You don't have to run anymore - not from the likes of him anyway!"

Everyone turned to see Snyder's hands in handcuffs behind him; two cops already had him in custody. Denton stood there amongst it all, smiling. "We brought the Warden over to say goodbye. Say 'Goodbye, Warden'."

The newsies grinned and all shouted 'Bye bye Warden!, some of them not in the nicest way possible. Race and Ink both spewed colorful language while doing so, but a single sharp look from Phantom shut them up. Jack watched, amazed, uncomprehending, as the cops moved Snyder to the paddy wagon. As the rear doors opened, several boys piled out, all former inmates of the Refuge. The group included Tenpin, a younger newsboy who'd been imprisoned over four months ago. As Snyder was loaded inside, the last boy could be seen coming out, crutch first- Crutchy!

The disabled boy chuckled at the sight of freedom, hopped out and turned to Snyder. "Remember what I told ya Mr. Snyder- first thing ya do in jail; you make friends with the rats, share what you got in common." He grinned and slammed the door to the wagon, then presumed to hobble on over to his friends. "Heya, Jack! My leg tells me the strike's over!"

Jack blinked, confused. "Crutchy, Isa don' get it. Watt happened?"

The cripple smiled like it was Christmas in July and laughed. "Ya outta seen it, Jack - he came chargin' into the Refuge wavin' his walkin' stick like a sword and he's leadin' this army of lawyers and cops and Snyder's hidin' in the potato bin-"

"Watt are ya talkin 'bout?" Mafia asked, interested now that she knew he was talking about the Refuge. Crutchy nodded and pointed towards a red carriage with a cheery man in a top hat inside. "Who? Your pal! Him!"

A Rough Rider opens the door and the man leaned forward. Everyone caught a glimpse of the silk hat and walrus mustache as Teddy Roosevelt raised his walking stick in salute to Jack across the square. Jack was awestruck; so were the other Newsies gathering around for that matter. Denton moved up next to Jack. "Governor Roosevelt's very grateful that this problem was brought to his attention," he explained. "He'd like to offer you a lift, anywhere you like. This time, you ride inside."

Jack looked at the coach, apparently torn. Boots held the bundle of belongings he gave him earlier. Suddenly Jack decided, snapped his fingers, and Boots tosses him the bundle. "Den do ya think he could drop me off at da train yards?"

Denton moved off toward the coach. David, Sarah, Les standing off to the side looked stunned, dismayed even. Jack clearly avoided their eyes. Behind them, the circulation bell started to ring, and the window immediately opened for business. The crowd of newsies started to race to line up, bumping and shoving each other around to be the first in line. Someone rolled a box full of newspapers, fresh off the printers, past. The gang looked at them hungrily, eager to return the work. They looked over at Jack.

Phantom and Race were the first to step forward. "So, youse really goin' dis time?" his second asked cautiously, not really certain he'd like an answer. "Yeah Jack," Phantom added. "We'd really like ya stayin' here…" her voice trailed off as soon as she saw the determination in the cowboy's eyes. "Well den, uh- good luck, wherever youse gonna end up."

"It's now or nova guys," Jack replied, a bit sadly. He shook Race's hand. "'Hattan's yours now Race; take care 'o' err' for me." The second nodded proudly. "Won't be the same without ya. Give ya even odds on that."

The others crowded around Jack as Race moved on. David looks on, left out for the moment; Sarah and Les beside him, with Cloud leaning on David's shoulder dejectedly.

Blink and Lucky looked over at Jack as well, Blink's arm around his girlfriend. "See ya in the funny papes, Cowboy," he joked, a failed attempt at humor as tears welled up in his eyes (or at least the one visible). Jack smiled slightly. "Yeah, Blink, keep ya eye peeled." He obviously didn't know about Blink's other, just as good eye that was hidden. Mush swallowed hard with Witch on his arm. His voice was forced. "Ya hear what he said Blink? Ya hear it-?"

"Yeah, we all heard it Mush," Witch replied gently, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Good luck Jack." Boots pushed past everyone, and with great difficulty handed the boy a handful of marbles. "My best shooters. Never know when ya need good shooters." They all gave a weak chuckle.

Spot and Mafia were next. Spot was stone faced, but Mafia's expression was that of slight concern and disquietment. "Take it easy, Jackie- boy. Ya ever get in a spot-"He shrugged at the pun and pointed towards himself. "Think 'o' me." Mafia left Spot's side and embraced Jack. When she stepped back she surveyed him sadly. "Youse really goin' ta Santé Fe," she said plainly, more of a statement than a question. She managed a weak smile. "How long have youse been dreamin' 'bout dis moment, huh Cowboy?"

The two chuckled. Jack shook his head. "Take care 'o' youseself, ok Maf?" he said. "Isa don't trust Spot enough ta do dat, least not as well as youse can do it." "Hey!" Spot exclaimed, shooting his friend a startled look. "Isa been takin' care 'o' ya best friend for a long time ya know!"

Jack smiled. "Isa know Spot." He shook their hands one last time, climbed up on into the carriage and rode out of the Center, gone. A single tear slipped down Sarah's cheek. Les was crying full blown, no caring who saw, and Daisy went over to give him a hug. Mush swallowed hard with Witch's lips quivering, and her twin along with Kid Blink looking down at the ground sadly. Cloud and David embraced.

Spot wrapped his arms around Mafia. "C'mon Maf; ya don't need ta be strong anymore," he whispered in her ear. "Go ahead an' cry. It's alright." Mia nodded, silent tears finally flowing down her cheeks as she buried her face in the King's shirt. _So dis is how ta grieve, _the street girl thought.

Suddenly she looked up, startled at the sound of the crowd growing even louder. "Spot, watt's goin' on?" she asked, pulling away for a minute to survey the crowd. Spot too followed her gaze, saw a red carriage riding back into the square, and blinked. "Isa think he came back."

Everyone's heads snapped up and shouted as Jack Kelly came rolling back into the Distribution Center, all smiles and laughter. The wagon stopped, and Jack stood up to shake Teddy Roosevelt's hand again. Then he hopped down in front of the newsies gathered up to buy papers and gestured towards Les, who grinned. The governor's carriage was gone.

"Call it Les!" Cowboy shouted merrily at the small boy. The Jacobs kid dashed up the ramp with Snipeshooter, Boots and Daisy at his heels and eagerly rang the bell. "Comin' down da chute!" Newspapers immediately followed. The crowd went crazy. Sarah joined the rest of the boys in celebration, and then Jack pulled her over, dipped her down and in front of everyone kissed her. Phantom elbowed Mafia in the arm good-naturedly. "Remind youse 'o' someone?" she asked playfully. Mafia grinned. "Nope," she replied innocently. "Not a clue."

**Ok, almost done guys! It took me a while to get this up, but it's here now, so review, favorite, follow, or both all three! Thx! ;)**


	17. Chapter 17

**OMG second to last chapter! I'm gonna cry! Do not be discouraged fellow fansies, for I shall return with a sequel (but not until I get my lotr story done). It's gonna be good, but until then, let's go off Crypt shall we? **

_Brooklyn LH, 1899_

Mafia and Spot waltzed into the Brooklyn lodging house, all smiles. Jack had declared a party at the Vaudeville for all the newsies in attendance at the rally, but the couple had politely declined. They had to get back to Brooklyn.

Mafia was the first in the door, laughing about something or another, with Spot behind her. The King snaked his arm around her waist, startling the girl, but after the initial shock she leaned back into him lightly. "You really are fantastic, you know that?" he whispered in her ear, kissing her softly on the cheek. "Really amazing." He girl laughed, but as Spot kissing her again she put a finger up to his lips to stop him. "Oh no you're not," she told him, smiling pleasantly but firm as she turned to look at him. "We're not goin' any further in dis relationship until dis is all ova an' behind us."

Spot raised a single eyebrow, looking into her steely gray eyes. "So dis is a relationship now, is it?" he joked, chuckled lightly. Mafia shrugged. "Isa really dunno watt dis is." "Well, Isa kinda like it," Spot replied, kissing her again, this time on the lips. Mafia kissed him back but after they'd broken apart she stepped back. "Nice try Lover boy," she laughed, taking his hand and leading him over to a table and sitting down. "But we've got work ta do." Spot sat down across from her and frowned.

"Watt work is dere possibly left at do Maf?" he asked. "Strike's ova, we've won an' Snyder's goin' away for a long time- watt else could we do?" Then it hit him; "Youse wanna go aft' Crypt." Mafia nodded ever so slightly, and Spot groaned. "Mia, we've been aft' dat guy for ova a year an' nothin' has turned up. Sprite's dead, Brandy's gone, an' youse giorls are safe now. It's time ta let go-"

"No Spot," Mafia replied firmly. "Look at watt he's done. Look at where we are now. Crypt's gonna know watt's up with us, an' we'll be in even more danger den eva. He's weak now dat Pulitzer's outta da picture; we need ta hit im' hard before he recover. Spot, I'm gonna go through with dis with or without youse."

The King of Brooklyn sighed when he saw the determined fire in her eyes. "Youse really gonna do dis, ain't ya?" Mafia nodded, pulling up her sleeve to reveal her _Brooklynite_ scar. "Look at watt he did ta me Spot." He sighed again, and then smiled slightly. "Den I'm with youse."

The two shared a brief moment, but it was that, only brief, mainly because the loud sound of infernal rapping at the door broke it. Spot got up and went to open it. "Da guys can't be back dis early- Brooklyn nova leaves a party while it's still daylight out-"

There was no one at the doorstep, only a letter in a white envelope. Spot bent over and took it up in his hands, flipping it over and tearing it open. He unfolded the letter, and with one glance he turned around and yelled back to Mafia. "Maf, ya might wanna get ova here!"

The street girl walked towards him and peered over his shoulder curiously. "Watt's da big deal Spot?" she asked. "It's just someone playin' a prank."

"No, read it."

Mafia reached over and took the piece of paper, glancing it over. Her eyes got wide. "Oh no," she muttered.

_Miss me Conlon? It's good ta being back in Brooklyn, I have ta say._

_Ya might've guessed already but I'm comin' for ya girl. Whether ya city_

_goes up in flames is up ta youse. Bring me Mafia Powell, an' no one gets _

_hurt. Be at da docks at midnight, no later, and ALONE, or youse boys get a _

_free cremation. See youse dere._

_-Crypt_

_PS- like me ink? Brandy was most helpful._

"Look at it," Spot whispered, pointing at the writing. "Da ink's red." "It ain't ink Spot," Mafia replied solemnly. "It's blood. Crypt figured Brandy wasn't any use ta im' anymore, an' he killed im'. Tying up loose ends."

"We have ta do something," Spot decided, sitting on the stairwell and thinking. "Crypt's gonna burn down Medda's theatre an' everyone in it if we don't meet im' at da docks tonight-"

"Youse gonna turn me in!?" Mafia gasped. "Spot-"

"No, not like dat!" Spot replied, calming the girl down. "Isa ain't dat cruel Maf! We're gonna take dis guy down once an' for all, an' we're gonna do it right." Mafia looked at him. "An' watt sorta plan youse got ta do it, if I may ask?"

Spot's shoulders slumped. "Dat's watt Isa was afraid youse was gonna say," he huffed. "Isa got nothin'."

Mia smiled mischievously. "Well den, it's a good thing youse have me Conlon; Isa been plannin' dis moment for _years_."

_Brooklyn docks, 1899_

It was dark. And I don't mean dark- it was pitch black night. Without the help of street laps around Brooklyn Spot and Mafia wouldn't have found their way past the first two blocks of their journey. The light cast eerie sort of shadows in all shapes and sizes, making the newsies' trek down to the docks even more nerve racking. The wind howled.

"Youse really gotta handle on dis?" Spot asked cautiously as the piers came into sight. "Maf, Crypt ain't lookin' for a truce here-"

"Watt did Isa tell ya Spot?" Mafia asked in return. "I'm not gonna let Crypt beat me again." Her white shiny _Brooklynite _scar glittered with the street laps shining down on it, making the girl look even older than being a street rat already did. She wasn't a teenager anymore; she was a woman, seasoned with the asphalt of New York's concrete jungle and hardened to the core by its cold winters. Intelligence and majesty aerated off of her.

Once they reached the point where the cobblestone street ended and the wooden docks began both newsies ran their eyes down to the end of the pier. Crypt and three other men (Brooklyn deserters no doubt) were already standing on the end, waiting. Crypt was the only one of the four that was actually looking straight at them. His gaze was as icy as a frozen pond, his smile crueler than a snake's and just as dangerous. It sent chills up Conlon's spine.

"Well well well, youse actually decided ta turn up," Crypt smirked, clicking his tongue patiently as the couple reached a halt 10 feet away from him. "Isa guess Isa don't have ta send da boys out on a little arson tour dis time." He waved the three other goons back and stepped forward. "Now we can talk."

"Watt's dere ta talk 'bout?" Mafia asked coldly. ""Ya made youseself pretty clear Brooklyn was youse when ya attacked me a few days ago." She lifted up her arm and flashed her scar. "Not ta mention a year ago when youse almost _killed_ me." She spat out the words, her gray eyes narrowing. "So da youse need ta go ahead an' kill off ya biggest competition, is dat it?"

Crypt just laughed, that chilling laugh that sounded like a knife grading across stone. "Brooklyn? Who said anything 'bout Brooklyn, Maria?" Mafia tensed up beside Spot, and the King immediately knew something was wrong. "Don't call me dat," Mafia hissed dangerously, but there was no disguising the franticness in her voice.

"Maf, something wrong?' Spot asked, glaring over at Crypt. The man had called her 'Maria'… Mafia's name was Mia… wasn't it?

"Don't think dat Isa dunno 'bout youse Mafia," Crypt sneered, taking a step forward. "Where youse came from, ya bloodline, ya real name- who youse are-"he advanced a step with ever word, and Mafia took a step backward each time. _This is so unlike her,_ Spot thought. _She's normally not like this- she's not _that_ terrified of Crypt- he has to be bluffing- _But the look in Mafia's gray eyes told anyone around them the truth. Crypt had leverage, and it was bad.

"If dis is all ya have ta say, just ta get us riled up, den we're gone," Mafia retorted back, voice strong again, fearless. "Youse don't have nothin' ova us-"

"Isa have enough ova _youse_," Crypt replied, smirking. "Dat's enough for me, ain't it?"

That snapped Spot back to his senses. "So ya sayin' youse ain't aft' Brooklyn?" he asked carefully. Crypt chuckled violently. "Brooklyn? Dat was a fool's dream. I'm smarter now Conlon; Brooklyn ain't worth watt I'm doin'. Ya can have it- it ain't watt I'm aft'."

Mafia nodded in agreement. "Listen ta im' Spot; he's not lyin'." Spot blinked and looked over at her, startled. "Ya sidin' with im'?" "I'm tellin' ya as it is," Mafia replied, her determined gaze still on Crypt. "He's not aft' Brooklyn- nova was. He's here for me."

Spot's lips curled up into a sneer. "All dis for a giorl? Crypt, ya barkin' mad!" He laughed coldly, but Crypt just shrugged. "Just for Mafia? Nah, it's too little prize- no offense ta youse, 'o' course."

"Non taken," Mafia replied coolly.

"No, Mafia's just a piece 'o' da puzzle. A chess piece, not a player. Isa need her ta get me where I'm headed, plain an' simple. Can't do it without her, em, _skill type_." He emphasized the words. Spot was even more confused.

Mafia laughed harshly, trying to get back what little control she had over their current situation. "Only a piece, Crypt?" she smirked. "Isa wouldn't say dat. I'm da one ya want. _I _hold da power ova dis. Youse don't have me, youse as good as nothin'."

The former Brooklyn leader clenched his fists. He knew he'd been outsmarted. "Which is why Isa have back-up," he sneered. The boy retreated and let his three goons advanced, two of them pounding their hands into their fists threateningly. The middle one of them had a handgun. Crypt smiled evilly as his men advanced while the couple retreated. "Kill Conlon, take da giorl," he instructed them. "Isa want her alive."

The gunner nodded semi-intelligently. "Sure thing boss." The two men on both sides of him charged forward, straight at Mafia, while he raised his firearm and pointed at the King's heart. "Goodbye Conlon," he laughed. "Tell da devil 'hi' for me."

_Brooklyn docks, other side of gunman, 1899_

Mafia saw the goons coming before they'd even charged. As the first one reached out to grab her arm and pin her down she quickly spun out of his reached, behind him. In a quick movement she thrust out her hand and twisted the boy's wrist around towards the back of his head and flipped him over. He fell into the water with a loud _splash! _

The second boy was a little more careful. He backed once he saw how badly his comrade had been beaten and pulled out a long club. Mafia huffed. "That's not fair!" she shouted, dodging the blade as it narrowly missed her stomach. Then her lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Not unless Isa have one too." She quickly snatched up a long fish hook from atop a crate nearby, straightened it out and sneered at the goon across from her. "Ya wanna play rough kid? Let's play."

The boy lunged at her, swinging his club. Mafia dodged it again and gripped his hand, forcing it upward, but the boy easily freed his other arm and sucker-punched her in the gut. Mafia cried out and went down, both hands clutching her stomach and trying to get her wind back. The goon towered over her, smirked and lifted his hand up to knock her out. It descended moments later, but it never reached its intended destination. Mafia, in one final desperate attempt to win the match, aimlessly lashed out her leg and caught the goon in the inside of his knee. He toppled the instant she made contact, screaming and clutching his leg in pain. The club lay off to the side, forgotten.

Mafia breathed a small sigh of relief, and at that moment she spotted the third goon aiming a pistol at Spot. "Goodbye Conlon. Tell da devil 'hi' for me." And he shot. Mafia's face turned white, draining of all color as she helplessly looked on.

"No!"

_Brooklyn docks, Spot's POV, 1899_

Spot felt the initial impact of the bullet, the pain ripping through his side and his full body weight hitting the wooden boards, but for some reason it didn't feel nearly as bad as he'd thought it would. Sure, it hurt, and bad too, but there wasn't any blood- or at least not his. The King rolled around to see a dead Injun lying with eyes like glass beside him, his red life blood leaking out of a small, neat round hole in his head.

Fury coursed through Spot's veins. He struggled to his feet and turned to face the third goon, who was staring down at Injun's body, horrified. _He nova intended ta kill anyone, _Spot thought to himself. The boy's eyes filled with tears as he fell to his knees, hyperventilating. He looked over at Spot with the expression of contorted horror. "Run!" he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks like a waterfall. "Isa wasn't aiming for youse Conlon; nova was. Bought ya all da time Isa could- run!"

And with that final notion he pivoted around and pointed the barrel directly at Crypt's heart and shot. And shot. And shot.

_Click. Click. Click. _No more bullets. Crypt smiled dangerously, raised his own weapon and fired. The turncoat goon went down in a heap. "Isa wasn't really gonna get me hands dirty dis time Conlon, but Isa guess dis is a special case. Hope dem last few seconds counted. Dey'll be ya last." He laughed and Spot saw his finger move towards the trigger.

More shots rang out. The King had expected (again) to fall, this time for good, but instead of his body crumpling to the ground it was Crypt's. Three more bullets hit their target, blood spraying everywhere. The former King of Brooklyn staggered looked to his right in amazement, and then slowly, surely, fell back into the water. Spot looked over to where Crypt had turned and saw Mafia, short blond blonde hair gussied up and whipping in the wind, with a revolver still aimed straight at Crypt's heart and gray eyes stone cold.

"Maf?" Spot said, slowly walking over and standing at her side. "Youse ok?" Only then did Mafia lower the gun. She stared down at the floating corpse of Crypt emotionlessly and nodded. "It was the only way. For , Sprite and Injun." She motioned over towards Injun's body. "It was for me." Spot took her hand (the one without the revolver in it) and lead her back over towards Injun and knelt down beside him. "How'd he get ova here so fast?" he whispered sorrowfully. "He couldn't have known. Everyone was in 'Hattan. We made sure 'o' dat."

"We spotted one 'o' Crypt's goons with a ton 'o' oil an' a box 'o' matches ova at Medda's."

Spot and Mafia turned around to see Ink and Bowler making their way towards them. "Injun told us he'd go ahead an' inform youse two while we finished roundin' up da others," Bowler told them. He gazed down at the newsie's body sadly. "Looks like he got here just in time."

"He's a hero," Spot stated plainly, staring defiantly at any who would oppose it. "He saved my life; we're gonna honor im' for dat." "And him," Mafia whispered quietly, motioning over towards the dead goon who'd been shot, lying a few feet away. "Dey both deserves a proper burial."

"Why im'?" Ink asked curiously. "He was on Crypt's side; he's a traitor-"

"Ta Crypt, an' Crypt only," Mafia interrupted, cutting her friend off abruptly. "He was on our side da whole time. Youse saw his face when Injun got killed. He wasn't even gonna kill im'." Bowler nodded in agreement, looked back over at the body and froze. "Well, we'd give im' a proper burial Maf, but dere's one little problem."

"Watt?"

"He's gone."

Everyone looked over at where the body had been. There wasn't a single trance of the boy that had died there. Spot shrugged. "Isa guess he wasn't dead aft' all." Mafia nodded, relieved. "I'm glad. He didn't have ta die."

Spot glared at her. "He killed Injun Maf." The King expected an anger retort, but the newsgirl just shook her head. "It was an accident. Dere was nothin' we coulda done ta prevent it." She leaned down over Injun's body and kissed him lightly on the forehead as a kind of farewell. "Injun's in a better place now, an' dat's all Isa can hope for. His soul's in da Father's hands now."

Ink stared at her in admiration. "Isa didn't know youse had da faith Maf." The girl smiled slightly, in a sort of mysterious way. "Maybe youse nova looked hard enough." She stood up and stared down at the body a moment, thinking, before she finally raised her head to look at everyone else. "We'll take Injun ta da Catholic Church, da one with da cemetery we buried Sprite in," she decided. "Dere's a priest dere, a good friend 'o' mine. He'll understand an' help bury im'."

Ink and Bowler looked over to Spot for final instructions. He shrugged. "She's Queen; do as she says." The two nodded, and in an instant Hatter and his birds appeared out of nowhere. They all looked mournful. Poor Dusty couldn't look at the body. They picked Injun up carefully and whisked him off to the church. Spot took Mafia's hand and led her back towards the lodging house when she started to go after them.

"Da funeral will be tomorrow at da earliest Maf. Get some rest." There was one point in her life when Mafia would've said 'no, not until Crypt is dead', but not now. The newsgirl nodded silently and followed, without so much as a complaint, back home.

**Sorry this took so long to put up. Life's hectic, as I'm sure everyone here's aware of, so let me sum up my past few weeks in a nutshell: bullies, tennis, girl scouts, homework, sickness, and the oh-so-coveted Nation Honor Society Membership. But enough excuses- review! **

**BTW- I know its March, but if anyone hasn't read my story BLACK SHOE POLISH for Black History Month I suggest you do so. I got a lot of likes!  
**


	18. Chapter 18

**TO ALL FANSIES! THIS STORY IS NOT DEAD YET! This is the last chapter. Don't worry, long talked about sequel is on its way, but first I must finish my LONG OVERDUE lotr story. To all whom reviewed, you are the awesomest (I think that's a word, judging by the red line on Word it's not) people I have had the pleasure of getting to know (or in some cases talk to at the very least). Here we go!**

_Brooklyn LH, New York City, 1899_

As it does in all stories, life went on, even after the death of Injun and the final defeat of Crypt. It went on, back to selling papers for measly prices and living off of the concrete jungle they called home. It went on, in short back to the life it had always been- but with a few changes.

The streets girls' gang was no longer 'street', to put it plainly. Each of them had found a home within some borough or another. Phantom and Race were going steady, and on some occasions stayed in Brooklyn on their way back from the races. David had gotten Cloud a real job at Tibby's Diner, where most of the newsies frequently visited. Witch and Lucky were still newsgirls with their boyfriends, and sold in Central Park. Daisy was also still a newsie, finding companionship in Les, Boots and Snipeshooter.

And then there was Mafia. One month back in Brooklyn, this time to stay, with the one person she truly loved. It had taken a while to get used to the title most of the boys had donned upon her, 'The Queen of Brooklyn', but other than that life couldn't have been better. She could have stayed there her whole life and not have had any regrets about it.

But old problems seem to have a nasty way of following you into a new life.

It was the end of July. Long, hot days were drawing to a close as a new work season began. Nights were cooler, crisper, and with their coming also came Friday night poker games. This particular one was in the Bronx, and while all the Brooklynites had decided to make an appearance their Queen had chosen to stay home and rest. Small headaches were no big deal; unexpected visitors were.

"Heya Maf, youse still off on da poker game?" Spot asked, walking into her room and looking over her shoulder as she leaned back in her desk chair. "Isa hear da Bronx has a new arrival thinkin' 'bout comin' ova here. Youse wanna meet im'?"

The Queen sighed and rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the dull pain shooting up into her skull. "Nah, I'll skip tonight if dat's ok with youse," she replied. "Dis headache's been at me since 8 am dis mornin'."

Spot nodded in affirmative and kissed her lightly on the cheek before heading out. "Suit youseself. We'll be back before 1. Don't go anywhere shady, get lots 'o' rest, don't open da doors for strangers-"

"Spot, Isa think I got it," Mafia chuckled weakly, smiling with her steely gray eyes. "I'm not an idiot, 'member?" Spot laughed and presumed to walk out the door. "Isa know. Isa sure got lucky when Isa found youse, ya know dat?"

Mafia shrugged, winking over at him as he left. "Sure do." A few minutes later the house was quiet and empty, stiller than the calm before a storm, just the way Mafia liked it. Absentmindedly she shuffled a few of the loose-leaf papers on her desk, first the old picture of herself Spot had always kept with him (he'd given it to her a few weeks ago), several notes and reminders, a couple envelopes that stored what little money the lodging house received as charity- and a familiar old, yellowed envelope. The girl's memory immediately flashed back to a month ago…

_Brooklyn, New York, 1899_

Mafia walked into Brooklyn about two hours after their meeting in the Distribution Center basement. She was nervous, to say the least. How would she approach Conlon, the first real time she'd actually spoken with him one-on-one since that night? Everything in Brooklyn looked intimidating, even the skyline. _You're working yourself up too much Mia, _the girl scolded herself. _You've lived in Brooklyn almost your whole life. Nothing should scare you. _But she still kept her guard up, fists clenched and eyes open. Kings County wasn't the place you could just meander through at four in the morning. It was still a dangerous part it town.

Suddenly, just as Mafia passed a small, dark alleyway, it happened. A large figure quickly stepped out of the surrounding darkness and grabbed her, pulling the girl back into the alley with it. But Mafia was prepared. She found the man's pressure point by his finger and twisted it; the person yelped and let her go, wincing in pain. Mafia then spun around the slugged him hard across the jaw and jammed her heel down the back of his knee. The man went down.

But it wasn't a man- it was a boy, perhaps only a couple years younger than herself but certainly taller. He looked lanky at first but a clear shot of him on the ground revealed that he'd bulked up in the past few months, no longer a wimp he appeared to be. He looked up at Mafia with an admiring glint in his dark eyes.

"Well den, if it ain't Mafia Powell, back in Brooklyn," the boy chuckled, pulling himself to his feet with a little trouble. "Last time Isa saw youse ya were sellin' papes on da corner four blocks from here. Where ya been?"

"None 'o' youse business S-"Mafia started to say, but the boy cut her off. "Hey, don't say me name!" he hushed her, looking around nervously. "I ain't supposed ta be here. Listen, Isa got some information youse might have an interest in." Mafia's eyes narrowed and she placed her hands on her hips, aggravated. "So Isa hear nothin' for ova a year from youse an' now ya suddenly wanna help me?" she smirked. "Dat's a first."

"Da ya want me help or not?" her companion snapped. Mafia took her hands of her side and crossed them, glaring over at him. "Fine, shoot. But youse only got five minutes."

The boy smiled recklessly. "Even if it's 'bout Crypt?" Mafia's ears perked up and her head snapped over. Her gray eyes sparkled was dangerous curiosity. She leaned in close. "Tell me everything, spare no details." But the boy shook his head, a bit remorsefully. "I can't, mainly because I haven't got em' all. Isa just know watt deys told me."

"Youse infiltrated Crypt's gang?" Mafia whispered excitedly. "How'd ya do it?"

"A lot 'o' kissin' up an' a little stealth," he replied. "But it ain't just Crypt's group-""Watt da youse mean, it ain't his group?" Mafia snapped. "He's da leader ain't he?" Her companion shook his head, looking around fearfully again. "No. Listen, Isa ain't got any more time." He pulled out an old, yellowed envelope and pressed it into Mafia's hands. The contents were dry and in pristine condition. "All me information Isa can give ya is in here. Don't open it now- wait until youse alone. Isa can't say much with certainty right now Mafia, but I'll tell youse dis; Crypt ain't alone." And with that he was gone.

Mafia swore under her breath, cursing the boy and his mysterious antics, stopping only when she remembered that she too had a job to do. Tucking the envelope into the folds of her worn jacket the street girl ducked out of the alley and headed towards the docks.

_Brooklyn LH, New York, 1899_

Brooklyn's Queen snapped back to reality as soon as her mind wandered too far into her reverie; she'd forgotten completely about the containments of the letter, what sort of secrets it might hold and why her contact had been so eager to come out of the blue and get it to her. Did she really want to go back into the dark depths of Crypt's world all over again? Did she want to know who Crypt really was?

A logical answer: no.

Heartfelt duty: yes.

So she took her finger nail and cut open the letter, spilling it's containments onto her took and shifting through tem, slowly and one at a time. What she saw shocked her.

The documents inside were high profile at the least, detailed to the core and very, very hard to come by. They were records, records of financials, memberships, names of very wealthy and powerful targets (most of whom had political standings) court motions and deals, even whole family birth and DOB certificates. This was no mere gang Crypt had been a part of- this was a full-fledged crime ring, and by the looks of it Crypt wasn't running the empire. At the top of the membership list (which was filled with recognizable criminals and respected citizens alike) the name of the head and several keys figures was inked out, virtually unreadable.

"So youse finally took a look, huh?"

Mafia jumped and whirled around, pinning the intruder up against the wall. It was the very same contact from a month ago, the boy who'd given her the documents in the first place. "Easy now Mia, no need ta kill da messenger." Mafia breathed in relief and let him up, crossing her arms. "How'd youse get in here?"

The boy shrugged and pointed towards the stairs. "Let me self in. Lodging houses are public property. Not criminal, unlike ya papers dere. Youse like watt ya see?" Mafia's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Like watt Isa saw? Dere are whole families on dat kill list, many prominent leaders in New York politics in dis crime ring's pocket an' almost every judge in town on dere side judgin' by financials. Da ya think Isa liked watt Isa saw?"

Her contact frowned. "So ya see watt Isa meant, dat Crypt wasn't alone in all dis. He wasn't a chess player like he said he was- only another piece. Someone else higher up was pullin' his strings, who Isa don't even know-""Isa thought youse was in good with Crypt's gang," Mafia responded lowly. "By da way, ya disappearin' act on da docks, very clever."

The boy shook his head. "Why thank youse. Isa appreciate da complement." "Ya welcome. But seriously, Isa thought youse was inside Crypt's section 'o' da organization."

"Yeah, Isa still am. Deys promoted me ta leader aft' Isa returned with a wounded arm. Good as new though; Crypt's bullet passed rights through da shoulder, nova hit nothin'. Anyways, Isa practically disbanded Crypt part 'o' da league, 'as a tribute ta da fallen' Isa said. Da big man runnin' da show, da leader 'o' all 'o' dis, he agreed wholeheartedly, but-"

"But?"

"Isa nova got ta actually speak with im'. Just spoke with his middle man. It's crazy, how careful he is. Nova lets any 'o' his underdogs in da organization see his face, in case dere turncoats or spies. I'm startin' ta get impatient, Mia. We have ta move fast."

Mafia set her jaw and frowned. "Oh no we're not," she snapped, sitting back down and crossing her legs. "Dere is no _we_, not aft' da last time-"

The boy groaned, running his hand through his hair in an annoyed way. "Dat was 9 years ago Mia!" he snapped back. "We were kids!"

Mafia retorted angrily "I spent a year on the street after that before getting sent to the Refuge, if you remember! Only reason I got out was because of Jack, and even then I didn't see you again until a year later, when I was a newsie and actually had a family again. I was already a street rat, _and then_ you had ta go and drag me back into our old life. Do you know what that did to me Steven? Do you know, _brother dearest_, how hard it was to forget what happened to our parents?"

Steven stepped back tentively, cautious and afraid that his older sister would blow up again. She'd always had a temper- something she'd received from their father. "Your accent's back. I knew you didn't really adopt that newsie slang." Mia shrugged. "I was always good at disguising myself, wasn't I?" she spat out angrily. "That's how I got into this mess."

"And I'm sorry for that," he apologized in a small voice, sittin down next to her. "I really am. And if I could take it all back and let you live life the way you wanted you wouldn't have any of the scars you do, like the one on your arm." They both looked at her _Brooklynite _scar. It had become a source of pride for her recently, but now the memories and pain were starting to come to a head again. "But we can't go back, not now, not when we're so close-"

"I'm not returning Steven. I have friends, family, a boyfriend-"

"Yeah, Spot Conlon, Isa know," her little brother replied stiffly. "So you're going to have to make a decision- a life with a boy who's going to leave you as soon as the next girl comes around, or family, who'd never abandon you again."

_Manhattan LH, New York, 1899_

A knock rang out from the Manhattan LH door. Mush, who was passing by, took the opportunity to answer it. There was no one there, but at his feet was an envelope. He bent over, picked it up and opened it to read. It took only 7 seconds for him to scream "Jack, Race, everyone, get down here NOW!"

There was the thundering of feet, and soon the Manhattan leader, his second, David, Blink and the girls were all around him. "Watt's da matter Mush, ya look like ya seen a ghost!" Witch told him, rubbing his back soothingly. "Watt is it?" Mush shoved the letter at Jack. "Read it."

The newsie cleared his throat, skimmed through it, then looked over at David in horror. "Call Denton, den Brooklyn. Spot needs ta see dis immediately."

_Brooklyn LH, New York, 1899_

Spot collapsed onto his bed after a long night of playing poker. He hadn't won anything, but hadn't lost either- he'd basically decided to come home early and get some sleep. Spot had assumed Mafia was asleep, so he wasn't going to bother her. The King was about ready to drift off when the phone (recently installed in all lodging houses in New York City) downstairs rang. He groaned, got up and trampled down the way to answer it.

"Who da heck is callin' me at dis unearthly hour?!"

"Conlon, it's Jack."

"Cowboy," the King growled. "Dis beta be important, or else I'll come ova dere an' beat da tar outta youse for wakin' me up!"

"Youse need ta get ova here Spot. It's really urgent."

"Fine, fine, I'll go. But I'm bringin' Maf with me- man won't like me wakin' err' up, she had a headache when Isa left-"

"Spot, she's not gonna be dere. She ain't anywhere in New York now. Just get ova here as fast as ya can." And he hung up.

With fear pounding a hole in his heart, Spot got up and run as fast as he could to Manhattan.

_Manhattan LH, New York, 1899_

Denton and Spot arrived at the same time, and when they entered the lodging house both were confused and worried. "Boys, is there something wrong?" the reporter asked, folder in hand and eyebrows raised. "You're lucky I wasn't in bed yet, or else I would've put this off until tomorrow."

Jack said nothing, just handed him a piece of paper, Denton read in aloud.

_Dear Manhattan,_

_I'm sorry I have to do this, but there's really no other way. I've been played, to say the least, and now I'm paying the price. This situation, _

_I don't know how to explain it all. It's complicated to say the least, and to put it plain I can't risk having any more of you involved._

_It's simply just too dangerous. I'm not going to have any more people die on my account. I hope I'll get to see you all again someday,_

_But even if we don't, know that I care about all of you. _

_Regards, _

_Mia 'Mafia' Antoine Powell_

Just seeing the look on Spot's face was unbearable. It's hard enough as it is, losing a friend, but Mafia was Spot's girl, the woman he'd loved for about as long as he could remember. He'd hadn't even been mentioned… not yet at least. Jack handed the King another slip of paper. "Maf addressed dis personally to youse," he explained, swallowing hard. Spot folded it up and stuck it in his pocket. "I'll read it later," he promised. "I'm still in shock."

Denton meanwhile was still reading over the paper, wearing a bewildered and befuddled expression. Blink looked over at him. "Watt's up Denton?" he asked. "Yeah, ya see anything?" Lucky added hopefully. "Maybe where she went?" The reporter still scanned over the letter, ignoring their anxious questions. "Something about this letter doesn't sit right with me," he muttered lowly. "Look here." He sat down at the table and let everyone crowd around him to see. "The way Miss Powell signed her name, it's strange. There's two last names, her real name and her newsie nickname, but not a middle. She'd have to know it, so why didn't she write it down?"

"Maybe she didn't feel like it," Race suggested. Phantom glared over at the gambler. "Denton's right guys; Mafia would've known her middle name. Everyone here does, or at least christened themselves one. She was up to something." "I agree," David piled on, pointing towards the letter. "Look how Mafia wrote the note. It has no incorrect grammar, no wrong spellings, not a single trace of newsie slang either. All newsies, especially those with the street-wise accent like her, would've made several mistakes while writing this. NO offense to anyone, of course." Murmurs could be heard, but no outright complaints were said against him.

"And the way she wrote it," Cloud added. "It's not like anything Isa ever seen. You'd have ta be schooled, an' school well, ta write something dis refined."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "So ya sayin' she went ta school at some point?" he confirmed suspiciously. "Yes, and schooled very, very well," David replied. "I mean filthy rich well. Think back to the time you first met her Jack; did she have the street accent?" The cowboy shook his head faintly. "Nope, but-"he stopped. "Isa didn't notice err' voce had changed until about a month aft' we escaped. We was little, so we didn't think 'bout it, but now…" He sat down in disbelief. "She nova had one, did she?"

"Isa don't understand why accents have ta do with Mafia," Boots said. "She's a newsie, so watt?"

"Accents mean everything in New York Boots," Denton explained "especially in the upper class. You can open doors and shut them based on rank in society, and that is judged based on, well, accent. For example, a boy with a foreign voice could get places that you couldn't strictly based on how he speaks. Even if he's only been in America a year, you'd be the less educated of the two and therefore lower in class."

Spot couldn't take it anymore. "Ok, enough with da lecture! Mush, watt da we got so far?"

The newsie thought for a minute. Based on writin' an accent, we've determined dat Mafia wasn't as street ratty as we thought. She was upper class, very educated, an' her name isn't as simple as we thought it was. Doin' good so far?"

"Right on," Witch told him. Suddenly Denton eyes lit up, and he reached down to pick up his case folder. Rummaging through a couple files, he picked one and opened it. "I know where I've heard her name before. There was a case I was on a while back, an arson fire in a wealthy class neighborhood. The tenants were named _Powell, _with the woman's surname _Antoine. _Both were killed-"he held up a family portrait. "But they were survived by their two children, Steven, age 7, and _Maria, _age 8. Steven was placed in the foster system before being adopted into a prominent family, friends of the Powells. Maria disappeared the day of the fire, hasn't been seen since." Spot glanced over at the photo and took a hard look at it. The girl was younger, had longer blonde hair and no scar on her arm, but it was the spitting image of Mafia.

"_Mia_ is a shortened name for Maria," Cloud explained. "And her mother's maiden name was Antoine. That explains her stage name for Medda's."

"And her name for da infirmary," Phantom added, ignoring everyone's gaze turn to her. "Remember dat night during the strike, dat raid that got us captured and put on trial? Mafia an' I got put in dat clinic 'cause deys thought we was just dancers for da show, an' when Maf signed out she put her name as _Maria Powell._ It was her real name, not an alias like Isa thought." There was a stunned silence.

"That explains it," David concluded at last. "_Maria_ Powell. _Mia_ _Antoine._ Mafia _Powell_. They're all the same person. Mafia's been hiding under three identities for over 8 years."

That set Jack off. "But why?" he snapped, stamping his foot in frustration. "She knew she could trust us. WE were her FAMILY for Pete's sake!"

"This might explain it," Denton replied, handing the Manhattan leader a few pieces of papers- written interviews. "I talked to several people who knew the Antoine-Powell family. Apparently there was talk that the family was head of some secret society. None of it could be confirmed, gossip really, but judging from their financials and scraps of letters I recovered from the evidence box those people had something to hide. Money transferred into ghost accounts, different properties owned that were basically nothing more than abandoned buildings- it was like the mob, but honest as heck. I got the feeling the family wasn't made of criminals."

"So deys were fightin' for something?" Spot whispered hoarsely. That sounded just like something Mafia would've done, fighting against injustice. "Watt exactly?" Denton shifted through a few more papers. "There's an old warehouse in Queens in the Irish mafia territory. That might've been for spies to hide out in while undercover within the group. Makes sense at least."

Spot's blood ran cold. Mafia had been in the same area when she'd run into some hit men and defeated them, thus earning her nickname amongst the Brooklynites as 'Mafia'. Crypt had been especially pleased. "He knew who she was from da get-go," he muttered softly. "Dat's why he sent err' sellin' dat way all dem years ago. Crypt said he was a part 'o' dis secret group, something with ties into places dat only Mafia could get im' into. Isa brushed it off as lyin', but now…"he let it go on from there.

Finally Cloud spoke again. "So lemme get dis straight- Mafia is from a wealthy family dat was murdered for bein' da heads 'o' a secret society. Steven gets up in a home with ties ta his family, so he might be part 'o' dat society again, but Mafia ran off da grid. Dat's a year missing before Jack met err' guys.."

"She probably lived off the streets," Lucky suggested. "That's how she got so good at bein' a survivor."

"Ok, she lives on da streets before getting' caught an' put in da Refuge. She escapes with Jack, an' heads back ta Brooklyn, becomes a newsie. Crypt, who's in da same organization Mafia's parents tried ta defeat, finds out 'but err' an' sends err' ta dat drop point in Queens ta see if she's tough. Maf survives, earning her title an' a permanent place in Brooklyn. Meanwhile her brother Steven grows up in dis secret society all his life, den suddenly finds err' again an' she's back in da game. Crypt gets power-hungry an' tries ta kill Maf, Brooklyn kicks im' out an' da rest is history. Did Isa get all dat correct?"

Denton nodded. "Pretty much, minus the fact that we have no idea who these people she's with are and who was pulling your boy Crypt's puppet strings."

"Or where she is now," Jack added mournfully. "She'll come back, right? She kinda has ta- her society's in Brooklyn." "It could be anywhere Cowboy!" Spot snapped. This was finally getting to him, the shock over and the rage setting in. "Deys could have stations all ova da country, even da world! Face it, she's gone an' she ain't comin' back!" And with that he stormed out.

Daisy, Boots, Les and Snipeshooter all peered out from their hiding place beside the staircase as soon as everyone was sure she was gone. Daisy crawled up in Phantom's lap and looked up at her with sorrowful blue eyes. "Spot's not right, is he Phantom?" the little girl asked tearfully. "Mafia's gonna come back, won't she? She forgot to take me with her!"

The old second in command looked down at the tin newsgirl and pressed her to her chest comfortingly. "She will honey," she told her. "She promised." The newsgirl looked over at Racetrack sadly, who shook his head. She turned away. "Just keep hoping. Dat's all we have left."

_Hudson River, 1899_

Maria Powell stared out into the darkness as her ferry shipped her across the river, away from Manhattan and her friends. _It had to be done, _she kept telling herself. _There was no other way around it. _The girl silently prayed a prayer of safety and concern for Spot. She hoped they'd give him her letter. There was so much left unsaid between them, too much that couldn't be put on paper. Maybe he would understand and move on. She'd asked him to, hadn't she?

Steven would meet her at her destination as soon as he got everything wrapped up in New York. She'd stay at the second headquarters as leader, he'd run the Society from Brooklyn. She wouldn't have to go back, not for some time. Her heart twanged with regret as she thought of the look on Spot's face as he read her note. Was there any way she could still jump overboard and make it to Manhattan without drowning?

But there was no going back now, and Maria knew it. The girl remembered Utah and Injun's promise of solitude there. She'd maintain a cover at that lodging house, at least for the time being…

The ferry horn sounded, a loud blast that deafened the ears and hearing of them on all passengers of the boat. Maria turned and stared over at the shoreline coming into view, its docks and trees, building and horizons poking out of the night sky- Hoboken, New Jersey.

**There, NOW I'm done. Did ya like it? Cliff hangers, ya gotta love em'! Watch out for my sequel, **_**Two Underground Cities, **_**coming soon! Last time to review, so make it count!**

**Godspeed,**

**Rellimmes**


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